


The Last Enemy

by BelfastDocks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Founders Era, Muggle Rights, Multi, Murder, Peverell Brothers - Freeform, Pre-Canon, Romance, Sex, The Deathly Hallows, Violence, War, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 111,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16020410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelfastDocks/pseuds/BelfastDocks
Summary: A tragedy destroyed their family, and when their Founders presented them with a challenge, they were determined to destroy the one entity they loathed above all else. But they never dreamed that Death would be so dangerous an opponent. A story about the Peverell Brothers, the Founders, and the Deathly Hallows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally published a few chapters of this story on an old HP fanfiction site titled "Checkmated" in 2008. After "Checkmated" disappeared, I transferred the story to FFN to maintain it. Now I'm transferring it to AO3.
> 
> Disclaimers: I most obviously do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters featured in those books, films, etc. I did make up some characters for this fanfiction, however. Also, I started this story LONG before "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" was turned into a movie. As such, I had my own ideas about what a Demiguise and a Graphorn looked like. I have not changed the story to fit the movie - otherwise, I would have had far too many rewrites.
> 
> Warnings: VIOLENCE, SEX, MURDER, ETC. In general, this is a pretty dark fic. Head the rating.
> 
> Timeline: ca. 800-1000 CE; before Merlin attended Hogwarts. Approximately two decades after the Founding of Hogwarts.
> 
> ~BD
> 
>  
> 
> Inspiration: Harry Potter and the Death Hallows, Chapter 35, "King's Cross"
> 
> Harry Potter: So it's true? All of it? The Peverell brothers –
> 
> Albus Dumbledore: – were the three brothers of the tale. Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road…I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death's own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

****

## Returns

****

It had rained recently. The narrow, slippery track that wound from the village of Hogsmeade was muddy and rutted. It would likely rain again before nightfall, if the slate-gray clouds were any indication. The entire surrounding landscape echoed the dismal, quiet atmosphere: the barren trees looked black, and the hedgerows were muted and dark.

Two men walked along this lonely track, one behind the other. Both ignored the splashing of mud on their knee-high leather boots, or the way the cold, iron-gray water on the ground had already seeped into their long, trailing cloaks. The taller wore a thick, heavy broadsword strapped to his back, while his companion clung to a shorter, more slender sword, keeping it well above the ground. They seemed intent on reaching their destination before the rain commenced again.

But despite their steady pace, the uphill trek was long and tiring. The younger man was clearly exhausted as he mounted a small hillock with obvious effort. The taller, however, showed no sign of fatigue. His broad, strong build indicated the walk was nothing out of the ordinary for him, and he was the least surprised when a few moments later, a castle loomed out of the gray fog surrounding the mountains.

When the huge structure came into view, both men paused in the path at the crest of the hill they had just climbed, the younger catching his breath. The wind was bitingly cold here, and even their thick woolen cloaks didn't help much. But the taller man stood completely still, as though carved from stone, and he gazed upon the tall ramparts and towers that spiraled out of sight into the dull, low-lying clouds.

Then they were in motion once more, bent against the sudden, rushing gale as they followed the path upwards. The path turned steeply for several yards before the slope became gentle once more, and the shorter man was breathing hard once again as they gained the even ground. As they came closer to the castle, he finally succumbed to shivering as the wind blew his cloak back from his right shoulder; he stumbled and quickly gained his balance. He glanced up at the castle, with an expression that revealed he was desperate to get out of the intense wind and cold.

And to his relief, the heavy, oak front doors opened as they came within hailing distance, and a man unexpectedly stepped out to greet them.

He was incredibly different from the two men who had made the long hike to the castle. The bitter wind did not seem to force him to bend; rather, he remained erect and tall, defying it to make him lean. It tousled his rugged mane of auburn brown hair, and the deep, wine-red cloak whipped around him as he strode boldly forward, his hands outstretched.

"And so two of our pure blood brothers return to the halls of scholarly endeavors!" he called out cheerfully. "We were beginning to wonder if the two of you had survived the Clan Wars in the North! The term began over a month ago, and we have all been concerned for your safety!" He grasped hands with the taller first, smiling genially at him. The two were almost the same height, but while the one had hair of auburn, the other had hair as black as ebony, and his eyes were the color of the gray sky around them.

The dark-haired man smiled wanly. "Master Godric," he said, bowing over the outstretched hands. "As you see, we have survived, and I apologize for our tardiness. Most unfortunately, war does not stop to allow students to return to their studies, or we would have returned at the start of harvest, and quite eagerly. Even as it was, we were afraid the doors would be charmed against outsiders so late after the term began..." His gaze flickered to the towering spires.

"Against outsiders, yes, but not comrades. I saw you approaching from the battlements, and came to welcome you." Godric Gryffindor smiled, and then turned to the other man, who also bowed to him in nervous submission. But the Founder seemed unconcerned with formalities – indeed, he ignored the gesture entirely and instead went on, "Come inside and warm yourselves! 'Tis deathly cold, and I'll warrant a Warming Charm will be useless against this wind!" He nodded for the two men to follow him, turning for the heavy doors again.

"Your brother will be happy to see you," he added over his shoulder. "He has been quite worried for you both. He was afraid to send an owl in case it was intercepted, but he has been extremely restless waiting for news of you!"

With this statement, Godric raise his wand, and a huge silver lion streaked from it soundlessly, flying into the sky, suddenly invisible against the palette of gray except for the way it sparkled slightly, while the clouds remained lifeless and flat. It vanished through the window of one of the tallest towers, and the two travelers knew it carried a message with it. Godric Gryffindor had long ago mastered the art of communicating with Patronuses, though few others had been able to learn his secret. They knew that their brother would be down shortly to greet them.

The three men entered the vast front hall of the castle, and the door banged shut with a loud echo. Though not exactly warm within the confines of the cold stone walls, it was at least dry and only a little chilly – there was thankfully no wind, and the two men began to realize how deep the cold had ran into the marrow of their bones during their long walk. Shivering and shaking, they followed Godric into the Great Hall, where four long silken banners fluttered from the ceiling representing the coat of arms and colors for each of the Founders. Otherwise, the Hall was void of tables and benches, save for the one long table at the top of the Hall, behind which an older man with a long gray beard was pacing slowly, reading a lengthy scroll of parchment.

The heavy footsteps on the flagstones captured his attention however, and he glanced up with a wary, frowning expression. However, when he saw who was approaching, his expression cleared. He waved his wand and the parchment Vanished instantly; then he stepped from the head table and strode to meet his colleague and pupils.

"Antioch," he said peremptorily. He steepled his fingers and gave the merest flickering trace of a smile. "It is good to see you once again. And Cadmus." He inclined his head to the shorter brother, who was professing his thanks even as Antioch made a low bow.

"Master Salazar. We apologize for our late arrival. The Clan Wars were more involving than we expected. However, they have temporarily abated, allowing us to return for the winter."

"We are thankful that you have survived to return to us," Salazar said coolly.

Godric chuckled. "They are brave men I warrant, despite the qualities which brought them under the tutelage of Founders aside from myself."

"Be that as it may," Salazar frowned, "their safety is extremely important. The Peverell family is an essential bloodline in the Wizarding community. If we continue to be persecuted, Godric, even you can not deny that Magical blood will die out."

The shadow that passed in Godric's eyes disappeared so quickly one may have wondered if they had seen it at all. And his voice was light as he replied, "The Clan Wars were Wizarding Wars, as you yourself know, Salazar. They had nothing to do with blood purity – only the Clan of MacBain fighting for land rights against the Clan of Findlay. You know very well that the Peverell house has distant ties with Findlay, which was the reason Antioch and Cadmus were called to fight in the first place. I would hardly call it an attempt to eradicate one of our esteemed wizarding families."

Salazar pursed his thin lips together tightly, but before he could retort, the sound of soft footsteps alerted the men to another presence. As they turned to the doors leading to the Entrance Hall, a tall, graceful woman came towards them, her midnight blue cloak fluttering around her and her long, wavy black hair rippling down her back. She smiled benignly at them all before she greeted the second brother.

"Cadmus, it is good to see you again. We were beginning to worry that you and Antioch would not be returning to Hogwarts this term."

The second brother's eyes widened to see his tutor approaching him, and he bowed low. "Mistress Rowena," he said quickly. "I am eager to continue my studies. We are thankful to return to the castle and apologize for our tardiness."

"Your studies are eager to embrace you once more as well," Rowena answered placidly. "The Art of War does not compare with the Art of Knowledge, or the ability to immerse yourself in expanding your Knowledge to new horizons."

"No, Mistress," Cadmus agreed, still bent at the waist. Only when she touched his shoulder with her slim fingertips did he straighten.

She then turned to Antioch. "And you have returned despite being of age," she mused, her eyes flickering over his tall frame, pale features, and tousled, long black hair.

"Yes, Mistress," Antioch replied. "I have a desire to continue my studies, if Master Salazar will accept me once more under his tutelage, despite my age."

A ghost of a smile flitted over Salazar Slytherin's face. "You need not ask, Antioch. You are one of my brightest pupils, and I have always been impressed with your talent. But I would suggest this year that you focus on specific courses of study, rather than a broad spectrum. You have missed a good deal of time while fighting in the Clan Wars, and after next year, I will be unable to accept you into the school as a student due to your age. The school was only designed for young wizards and witches, up to eighteen summers. You are on the cusp."

"I understand completely, Master Salazar." Antioch bowed low again. "I will make the most use of my short time during my last few months with you."

"Excellent," Salazar murmured.

" _Antioch! Cadmus!_ " The excited voice rang through the Great Hall with an echo and broke the placid conversation. It was followed by the hard pounding of footsteps on the stone floor, and the three Founders and the two brothers turned to see a younger man running towards them, his face lit with excitement.

Antioch was tall, broad, and stoic – his demeanor was quiet, yet calm and confident. Some even considered it arrogant, with a darker side that his brothers had often witnessed when he was angry or intently focused on his studies. Cadmus was shorter and stockier. His hair and eyes were dark brown, and his skin more clammy than Antioch's pale, perfect features. His general personality not nearly as intimidating as his older brother's was, but in some ways, he was even more arrogant than Antioch.

On the other hand, Ignotus Peverell was full of the life his older brothers seemed to hold in reserve. He was taller than Cadmus but shorter than Antioch – his hair was as black as the elder's, but naturally tousled and thick. His eyes were hazel, but they contained more color than Antioch's lifeless gray, with specks of green and blue. He was starting to fill out in the shoulders, but still wiry and lanky at only sixteen years of age. And while his brothers wore coarse, dark traveling clothes, he wore brown breaches and knee-high boots, a red tunic with a gold long shirt beneath, and a bright red cape for warmth. He had been Sorted differently than his bothers, selected by Master Godric for potential bravery and courage.

Ignotus did not stop running as he reached Antioch. He merely kept going, throwing his arms around his brother's neck to embrace him tightly. Antioch stumbled at the onslaught. It was obvious that he disapproved of his youngest brother's wild shouts and reckless running, but Ignotus did not seem notice his brother's expression of severity, for he turned to Cadmus and embraced him affectionately as well. He was already talking before he had stepped back, hardly taking a breath between sentences.

"I am _so_ glad to see you both! I couldn't send an owl in case one of the Clans intercepted it, and I was so worried neither of you would return! But you're here, and now I can at least write mother and tell her you're both alive. She's been more worried than I was!"

" _Ignotus_ ," Antioch said sharply, frowning at his youngest brother.

Ignotus fell silent, confused that his older brother had cut him off. There was much to tell them of what had been happening at the castle and at home the previous summer while he had stayed alone with their mother, and he didn't understand why Antioch looked so severe.

It was Cadmus who explained, "We bring with us grave tidings, which mar your celebration of our safe return." He looked away from Ignotus, as though he didn't want to meet his brother's eyes.

"You are both alive. What grave tidings could you possibly have?"

"Grave tidings indeed." Antioch paused, his muscles tense and tight. Then he said emotionlessly, "Father was killed in battle, Ignotus. Just two weeks ago."

The hall fell silent. For a few seconds, Ignotus merely stared at him, disbelieving. Godric Gryffindor had stiffened, Salazar Slytherin had frowned, and Rowena Ravenclaw's brow had knitted together in thought.

"Killed?" Ignotus whispered. "Father is... _dead_?"

The words sank in as he said them, and he swayed. Valiantly, he regained his balance to keep his knees from buckling under him. His father – the lifeline of their family, their patriarch, their protector and defender, the man who had raised them and taught them to duel, to fight, to stand strong...he was _dead_?

Behind him, he heard Godric whisper, " _No_... it cannot be...!"

Antioch continued tonelessly, as if reciting a lesson Salazar had given him to memorize. "The battle was going poorly. Findlay had lost much ground, and they had been fighting several days to regain it, without success. Several of the Findlay leaders agreed that it would be best to wager all of the land on a single duel instead of pitched fighting, to avoid losing any additional warriors. Tearlach Findlay asked father if he would duel the leader of the MacBain Clan in this venture – a warrior named Athol. Father agreed. And Athol accepted on behalf of the MacBain Clan."

Angrily, Ignotus argued, "But Father was an incredible dueler! He couldn't have lost against another…especially one so less worthy!"

Antioch's words were measured. "He did lose. It seems he was not as cunning as Athol MacBain."

Ignotus bristled immediately. "How _dare_ you say that father –!"

"He refused, _blatantly_ ," Antioch emphasized, cutting Ignotus off, "to wear the goblin-made armor Tearlach Findlay offered him before the duel. Had he worn that armor, he would not have been killed."

Cadmus quickly broke in to prevent Ignotus from exploding into another outburst. "Father said it was a dishonor to fight in armor. The act of a coward. That is why he refused. You would have done the same."

Ignotus managed to bite his tongue, and the pain somehow brought him to reality. Cadmus said what he had intentionally; his words had checked the youngest Peverell brother's temper and overwhelming grief, because Godric Gryffindor, who claimed he had seen tremendous bravery in the youngest Peverell brother, as well as courage and daring, had Sorted Ignotus into his fold, and the other Founders had agreed with the decision six years ago. Therefore, Ignotus could not possibly gainsay his Father's actions when he himself would have likely chosen the same path had _he_ accepted the same duel.

"It wasn't just the armor, though," Antioch said darkly after a long, tense pause. His eyes had turned a stormy, furious gray, belying his well-concealed anger. "Athol claimed afterwards that he had a better, stronger wand. Father's wand shattered at the very end of the duel. They had been battling fiercely, and we were certain that father would win. But then Athol cast a spell that I was completely unfamiliar with. It killed father instantly and his wand was destroyed into splinters. The MacBain Clan agreed to retreat one hundred yards to allow us to gather our dead, but the battle and several strongholds were lost. All we had striven for throughout the summer...it was all gone. We lost all the ground we worked so hard to retrieve, and were forced to retreat to the castles in the west. The MacBain Clan took over the land even as we were retreating."

Salazar Slytherin frowned slightly. "A stronger wand? But wands are no stronger or weaker than others. The wizard controls the wand, and it is the wizard who is stronger or weaker than his opponent. The very idea of one wand being more powerful than another has no logic, Antioch."

Antioch turned to his Founder. "That is what I thought as well, prior to the duel between father and Athol. But now, I'm not certain. I have a few theories I should like to test. You mentioned a moment ago that you would like me to focus on one area of study. With your permission, Master Salazar, I would like to focus on the art of wand making. I have thought about it the past fortnight since father's death, and I am interested in learning the mystic secrets of the subject. Is it truly so that the wand itself is just a piece of wood with a Magical core that matches itself with a wizard? Or can one really _create_ a wand stronger than others? I beg you to allow me to work with both yourself and Deogal Ollivander to delve further into this field. I can travel to study with him on days when his work is light, and thus extend my own studies."

Salazar contemplated this for a few moments, his brow furrowed deeply. Finally, he said, "If you so desire, Antioch, than I shall permit it. But there are many other subjects which you excel at, and which would be better use of your time."

"I truly wish to study the subject more closely. I am confident in the other subjects I have studied in the past, but wandlore is foreign to me at present."

"As you choose." Salazar's voice was dry. It was obvious the eldest Founder clearly disagreed with the idea, and thought Antioch's endeavors would be worthless. "Perhaps for now, you had best return to the common room, and rest before dinner. You have had a long journey from the north. We can discuss your studies later."

"Yes, sir. Mistress Rowena. Master Godric." Antioch inclined his head to the three Founders and left the Great Hall without further comment.

Once his firm footsteps died away in the Entrance Hall, Rowena commented thoughtfully, "Revenge is a savage beast, which controls the senses and mind, and clouds perception. He would do better to study the Dark Arts and their Defenses, or Potions instead of Wandlore, Salazar."

"I am obviously inclined to agree. But as you say, his perception is clouded and the beast currently controls Antioch. The claws are deep. He will in time be pacified, however. Either he will kill the beast, or it will kill him. For the moment, I believe it is best to allow him to follow the path he has selected. At some point, it will come to a dead-end and he will be forced to retrace his steps to the crossroads once more." Salazar turned for the head table again, and Conjured the scroll he had been perusing prior to Antioch and Cadmus's arrival.

Rowena did not respond, but continued to gaze at the doors of the Great Hall. After a long moment, she turned to Cadmus, who looked confused and upset at the Founders' less than flattering discussion of his elder brother.

"Cadmus," she said gently, "you should also return to the tower and rest. The others will be thankful to see you."

Cadmus bowed. "Thank you, Mistress." He turned to leave the hall, but glanced over his shoulder several times to see if his tutors would start discussing his problems once he left. When Salazar scowled at him, Cadmus hurriedly ducked out of the hall.

Salazar then muttered, "He is as lost as the elder."

"Yes, but not bent on revenge at least," Rowena replied. "Just confused and wandering in a forest, with no trail to guide him. At some point he will discover a trail and decide to follow it...or keep searching for another. But it is of little importance at present. It has been a long day, and if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have several letters to respond to in my chambers before dinner."

Salazar nodded slightly, still intent on his parchment, and Godric bowed politely to Rowena before she exited.

He then gently squeezed Ignotus's shoulder.

The young boy looked up, clearly distraught.

Godric murmured, "I am so sorry for what has happened. Perhaps it is best if you return to the Tower, Ignotus. I will be up after dinner to check on you, and to see that everyone is safe."

Ignotus nodded numbly, and turned to trudge towards the Entrance Hall. He could feel his Founder's eyes on his back as he walked, but he would not look back as Cadmus had done. He was stronger than Cadmus was, and he refused to give Salazar a reason to speak so indifferently about him.

But as he mounted the marble staircase, the numb feeling gave way to grief, and he succumbed to crumbling for a few moments.

His father was _dead_. He had not even seen his father for several months! Corvus Peverell had been assisting the Findlay Clan in the north of Alba, hoping to regain land that the MacBain family had stolen through bloodshed. Corvus had been one of Findlay's greatest war leaders in the past few years, even though his connection to the Findlay Clan was based on distant blood ties. He had been a fighter and a talented wizard, one that Tearlach Findlay was eager to have. And now he was _gone_. Ignotus stumbled on the last marble step, and fell to his hands and knees as tears finally crept down his face.

He had never had to deal with this kind of pain before. He'd never known anyone who had died, and the feeling was raw and undiluted. He could only imagine how Cadmus and Antioch had felt when they saw it play out before their eyes. A horrid image flashed in his head of a raging battlefield, blood-strewn rocks and men dying, spells flying in all directions, and his proud father dueling fiercely with an unknown man, who's face was hidden beneath a goblin-made mask. The jets of light were bright and blinding, and then one hit his father in the chest, and the wand burst into thousands of pieces and rained to the bloody ground. Antioch and Cadmus were running forward in panic, while members of the Findlay Clan tried to restrain them...

Ignotus wrenched himself back to reality only to realize he had broken into a cold sweat. In all actuality, he had no way of knowing the circumstances of his father's death except from what Antioch and Cadmus had told him in the Great Hall, which had been very little. Any additional information would be revealed later, should his brothers choose to invite his confidence. Struggling, Ignotus grasped the thick marble balustrade beside him and pulled himself to his feet.

It was late in the day, and the castle was silent but for the pounding of blood in his ears and the sound of his heart throbbing against his chest. His skin was clammy, and he closed his eyes as he willed his breathing to slow.

He could not bring his father back; Ignotus knew that. It was true that he had never experienced death before, but he tried to remind himself that there was no sense crying or panicking over something that was unchangeable. His father had been brave and proud, and would have been upset if he had seen Ignotus collapse on the landing. Feeling sick with both grief and shame, Ignotus straightened to his full, lean height and tilted his head back. The silence pressed upon him and calmed him. After several deep breaths, he opened his eyes once more. Everything was just the same – the gigantic hourglasses below held their glittering, precious gemstones; the torches in the brackets along the wall flickered in the draft. Ignotus knew he would have to return to the Tower quickly, before the sun went down. Students were not allowed outside of their common rooms once darkness fell.

But as he turned to go, he heard a soft giggle one floor below him. Frowning, he glanced over the marble banister. But the sound was suddenly no more, and silence reigned again. Ignotus wondered for a brief second if he had dreamed the noise, but he couldn't see how he had possibly imagined it, especially considering how he felt. Apparently, someone was happier than he was at this moment, and also roaming the halls unattended. He sighed heavily and slowly returned to the familiar path that led to the tower reserved for the students of Godric Gryffindor, as overwhelming emotions warred in his heart and brain, threatening to make him ill. Though it seemed like an eternity, it was only minutes later when he stopped before the portrait of a slender, beautiful woman in a long black dress, standing amongst a painted forest.

"Password?" she inquired demurely.

Ignotus rubbed his palms over his eyes and up his forehead, trying to push the horrible ache in his head out. It didn't work.

He dropped his hands to his sides and he blinked blearily at the slender woman, whom the students of Godric Gryffindor called Nerthus. She was watching him benignly. From what Godric had told them, Nerthus had been an incredibly powerful witch who had walked the land several hundred years prior, teaching young witches and wizards that wished to learn the secrets of magic in the secluded forests and vast moors on the Isles, away from the prying eyes of non-magical peoples. The Nerthus in the portrait had told them nothing of her past or her life – she simply asked them for the password each time they approached. Perhaps her past wasn't important to the portrait's duty within the castle, but the students had often been interested in her history. Their attempts to discover it had, as usual, led to silence, which only made them wonder more about Nerthus's achievements.

"Hidden Path," Ignotus answered dully, knowing it was pointless not to answer and remain in the cold corridor.

"Correct," she answered. The portrait cracked open, and Ignotus pulled it forward to step into the entrance of the common room. Godric Gryffindor loved to create new passwords with deeper meanings. "Hidden Path" referred to the secret paths of knowledge that resourceful wizards and witches would need to explore to become truly powerful masters of their arts, and Godric encouraged his students to look beyond obvious magic and into the unknown.

As the portrait of Nerthus swung shut behind Ignotus, a wave of warmth enveloped him. There was a roaring fire blazing in the hearth, and several students were gathered around it, pouring over texts and scrolls of parchment for their studies. In one corner, a young girl with long, dark auburn hair was quietly weaving a magical cloth, using her wand to direct the threads on the makeshift loom she had erected. Other students were sitting at carved wooden tables, working on assignments set to them, and a few were playing Gobstones on the floor.

More often than not, the common room made Ignotus feel warm and welcome. He was among friends – fellow students selected for their bravery, courage and daring. But tonight, the warm, cozy room did nothing for him. He felt heavy, dejected, and crippled. Without speaking to anyone, Ignotus trudged to the dormitories used by the young men. The spiral staircase felt much tighter and longer than usual, as though it would cave in on him if he stopped climbing. When he reached the landing of the Sixth Years, Ignotus felt exceptionally exhausted and was grateful that his bed was close to the door. He toppled upon it, not even bothering to close the curtains around him.

An overwhelming grief swept through his limbs. He wondered if Antioch had thought to write their mother. Ignotus found he did not have the strength to sit up and get a slip of parchment to write such a heartbreaking letter. He would have to ask Antioch later which of them should accept the task at hand. Antioch would probably write it himself, being the eldest.

Ignotus rolled to his back and stared at the canopy above him. The thought that he would never see his father again flitted into his brain. He could no longer tell his father that Master Godric had praised him for his exceptional magical abilities, or that he had received high marks on an essay set by Master Salazar or Mistress Rowena. Corvus Peverell had been proud of all three of his sons, but Ignotus had proven that his powers were as strong as his brothers' even at the age of eleven, when he cast a difficult spell that was far above his level of learning the summer after his first year at Hogwarts. Godric had been amazed and excited upon learning this news, and Ignotus had been trained heavily in Defense Against the Dark Arts since his second year as a result of his abilities. He was now one of the strongest among the students at defensive and offensive spells. Corvus had been exceptionally delighted at this turn of events.

But magical ability and strength were not helping him now. He closed his eyes and swallowed. He would not cry again. It would be weak, and he _must_ be strong. He _had_ to be strong. Antioch was too angry and Cadmus too disheartened. That only left Ignotus, and he was one of Godric's students. He would not let his Founder down.

Unexpectedly, the dormitory door opened against his wishes. At the abrupt sound of the creak, Ignotus quickly rolled to his side, hoping the visitor was simply one of his classmates searching for a quill or parchment to complete an essay. He gazed towards the windows, watching as the stars began to appear in the twilight. The night would be too long and too painful. He wondered if he would sleep at all.

And then a soft voice broke his thoughts.

"Ignotus?"

Startled, Ignotus twisted onto his back again. Leaning around the heavy wooden door stood the girl who had been working at the loom downstairs.

"Are you well?" she asked hesitantly. "Rowe called to you when you entered, but you didn't respond to him."

Ignotus was at a loss for words for various reasons. Aside from his father's death, the girl was looking at him with such a concerned expression in her beautiful brown eyes that it was enough to melt his knees.

He'd always thought Callisto Stewart was beautiful, not to mention kind. He had nursed a soft spot for her in the past six years of study. Callisto was a talented and powerful witch who dedicated herself to her studies, but nothing was known about her family except that her parents were dead and that she was a pure blood. None of her classmates, not even her fellow Gryffindors, knew where she went during summer holidays or who her relatives were. If anyone had asked her, she had not revealed the information. And yet, despite her mystery, the boys were attracted to her beauty, which seemed to have something of the wild moors lurking in the pale, slender shadows of her face.

Ignotus managed to explain without his voice cracking. "Antioch and Cadmus just returned to Hogwarts. The Findley clan lost their strongholds to the MacBain clan only two weeks ago. My father was... killed." He swallowed and diverted his eyes. He _couldn't_ cry in front of her. "He was killed in a duel. I only just found out."

Callisto's expression suddenly became sympathetic and distraught; she had clearly not been expecting anything so serious. After a moment she whispered, "Oh, Ignotus... I'm so sorry."

"Please don't mention it downstairs," he begged, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want his friends to know yet. His father had died in a lost battle and somehow, that thought was humiliating. Everyone would find out soon enough and he would endure the comments then.

"You have my word," Callisto promised. She diverted her eyes as she turned to leave. "I'll tell them you don't feel well. Would you like me to bring some dinner up?"

He reluctantly shook his head. He didn't feel like eating at all. "No. But thank you."

She nodded solemnly and shut the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Ignotus sank back onto the bed. Despite his father's death, watching the pain in Callisto's eyes was harder to deal with than the pain he felt in his heart. He wished he had not upset her.

**oOo**

" _Quiet_! Someone will hear, and we shall both be punished!"

"I am sorry! But you've been gone so long, Cadmus. I've missed you terribly. You must know I've been desperate for you! Haven't you ached for me?"

"How could you doubt that I have?" he hissed.

The corridor was dark and deserted. An open window at the further end was letting in a cold draught of air, which had extinguished the torches set along the walls, plunging the two lovers into shadows. But it was only a matter of time before one of the Founders ventured down this corridor in their nightly rounds, and discovered the torches, the draught, and possibly two students out of bed after the sun had set. Cadmus Peverell preferred to at least pretend that he obeyed the rules, even if he personally believed rules were only set in place for those who were too weak or too young to know differently. And he was neither.

Besides, he felt he should be allowed _some_ liberty given the circumstances what he had endured the past few weeks – in particular, meeting with Cearo Raedwald. She was a young witch renowned for her fair beauty. Her golden hair flowed past her waist in soft swirling waves, which she often kept pulled back with ribbons or leather ties. Her eyes were dark blue and her complexion creamy. Her father was a wealthy warlord who gave his only child everything her heart desired. His only stipulation was for Cearo to marry well, to someone of his liking and equal status in monetary terms. He had little knowledge that she had pledged herself to Cadmus Peverell a year prior, but Cadmus was certain Raedwald would not look unkindly on the match – Cadmus was, after all, a pureblood from a wealthy family of honorable, proud wizards.

However, he wasn't thinking about the girl's father at the moment. He wasn't even thinking about being _nice_ to her, even. She was here for one purpose, and a small part of him desperately hoped that one purpose would enable him to forget the horrors of the past few weeks.

Resolutely, he pushed the thought of battle cries and screams and blood to the back of his mind, swallowed hard, and focused on the beautiful dress Cearo was wearing: it was dark gold with a black sash, which hung low on her curved hips. As his eyes dropped to the tie of the sash, a rush of heat surged in his loins, and Cearo smiled sweetly at him.

"That is the look I was hoping for," she murmured, untying the leather straps that held his tunic together. "That is what tells me you have not forgotten me."

In response, his hips pressed to hers, pushing her into the rough stones of the wall, and he kissed her firm and hard. He had missed this in battle and he had desired it so many times while waiting for the fighting to begin once more – the feel of Cearo's body against his hardness... her mouth moving sensually with his lips...

Cearo leaned her head back in pleasure when his mouth released hers to skim her throat. "It has been _so long_ ," she groaned, opening his tunic and sliding her hands beneath the rough white undershirt. Her fingers traced his ribs and chest, following the natural contours of muscle and sinew.

"Yes," he panted. He dared not open the sash here, lest someone walked by. But he throbbed for her, and he knew they both needed to find an empty room quickly. To his left was a classroom door, and Cadmus grabbed Cearo's wrist, pulling her roughly towards the empty room. She followed eagerly, not complaining about the treatment she was receiving at his hand or even the unspoken fact that he was merely using her this time to relieve pain and forget his father's death.

Cadmus had barely sealed the door before Cearo was pushing his tunic and undershirt over his head, fumbling in the darkness and in her own desire. As his clothing fell to the floor, he pushed her backwards until she stumbled into a wooden table and toppled on it. Desperate, Cadmus pulled at the tie in the sash, and pushed the fabric down her hips. Free of restraints, the dress slid off her pale shoulders; he could just distinguish her soft skin the dark. His mouth found her curves, and he traced it with his lips, feeling the softness. He could smell her heady scent; it drove him mad, and his erection pressed into his leather breeches at the sound of Cearo's low, husky groans. Her body flowed with his, so perfect against him.

Her dress joined the sash on the floor moments later, and the rough pads of Cadmus' fingers grappled her breasts, squeezing and tweaking the hard peaks that she thrust towards him. He could feel her snatching at his laced breaches, her hands hurriedly delving in to stroke him and pull him towards her. She slid back on the rough, hard surface of the table, no doubt scuffing the smooth skin of her back. Her legs were already wide open; he could smell the musky scent of sex even stronger with her legs parted in invitation. His sweaty body slid against hers as he clambered on top the desk and hovered over her, and he heard her wand clatter to the stone floor. Her mouth found his – her tongue thrust into his lips and she kissed him deeply, begging him, pleading for him to come to her, and Cadmus quickly pushed into her, groaning as the tight heat suddenly enveloped him.

Beneath him, Cearo's hips arched and quivered, pressing firmly to his pelvis. She must have bitten her lower lip to keep from screaming in pleasure, because he vaguely heard the muffled cry deep in her throat. His mouth found hers again. He tasted the copper of blood, and it nearly drove him over the edge as he began to pound into her. She met his thrusts, her body already coated in a fine sheen of sweat as she slid sensually against him.

He had no way of knowing that she had forgotten to cast a Contraception Charm, so lost was she in the lustful heat of finally having her lover after so many months.

**oOo**

The students of Salazar Slytherin had been quite pleased to see Antioch Peverell enter their dark common room that night. After all, he was eighteen years of age, and technically beyond the years of study. But it was common knowledge that Master Salazar had taken a keen liking to the pure blooded heir of the Peverell family; obviously, this was why he had allowed the eighteen-year-old to return to Hogwarts for yet another year. But despite the cheerful greetings, Antioch only nodded coldly to a few of the others as he made his way through the tall-backed chairs and the intricately carved tables to the dormitories. Striding firmly to avoid being detained, he tugged his cloak off and quickly unlaced his tunic, wanting to put on something more comfortable and write his mother – a chore he detested, because it would devastate her, and none of her sons were home to ease the pain that such a letter would evoke. Perhaps he should also include a letter to one of the house elves, instructing them to give their mistress a Draught of Peace before she read his words. Nissy or Bobsy would be good at that, he thought distantly.

The dormitory was dark. After tossing the cloak on an empty bed along with his tunic and shirt, Antioch pointed his wand at the empty fireplace in the room. The flames instantly danced upwards, filling the small room with excessive warmth. Sighing heavily, he sat down at the desk he had used for the past seven years and lit a few small candles on the edges. Then, unwillingly, he pulled a slip of parchment from one of the drawers and prepared his quill.

The letter was extremely hard to write. Scowling, he wrote a few opening lines of greeting and explained that he and Cadmus had returned to Hogwarts safely, whilst trying to decide how best to approach the grievous subject of his father's untimely, horrible death in a grim war. He wondered if Tearlach had written her, and scoffed at the idea. Tearlach was the sort of man who would worm his way out of such a task if possible; he had sent Corvus into battle instead of going himself, after all.

As he stared at the parchment, absorbed in his thoughts, he did not hear the dormitory door open again. Only when a slender hand caressed his shoulder did he realize he was not alone. But the hand was familiar, and Antioch was hardly even startled by it. He certainly did not look up, but remained bent over his work, allowing his hair to hide his face.

"Father told me you had returned," the low voice purred in his ear. "I felt it necessary to seek you out before you retired to bed and welcome you home to the castle."

He felt soft lips move down his neck, but unlike all the times before, they did not rouse his senses.

Instead, he muttered, "Thank you. But I am quite busy, Serpentina. I have a rather important letter to construct." He glanced at the woman standing next to him for the briefest second.

Her eyes were a dark, lusty green, and her long, wavy hair was as black as his. Serpentina Slytherin had chosen Antioch when they were but fourteen summers, much to the approval of her father and the disappointment of other young men who had been bewitched by the young woman's dark beauty. She was Salazar's only child, and her mother was dead. That was all anyone, even Antioch, knew.

"I see," she retorted. A sarcastic smile twisted the pretty mouth. "I am sorry this letter requires your full attention at this precise moment."

"It does." He returned to the parchment. "I must write to my mother and explain my father's death in battle. It will undoubtedly be a difficult blow for her to absorb. It needs to be done immediately, however. She is not even aware Cadmus and I have returned to Hogwarts; she likely believes we are still in the north."

There was a pause, but Serpentina seemed to accept the answer. "Understandable," she finally murmured. "I shall see you at a more convenient time, then?"

"Yes, thank you."

But Antioch was hardly paying her any attention anymore – he was writing again, trying to explain the gruesome details, while seething with anger at the events he had had to endure. He had watched his father's destruction at the hands of a man who boasted of more power and a stronger wand. He had be a part of the hasty retreat of the Findley Clan to avoid further losses. He had witnessed Cadmus screaming like a child when their father died, which was humiliating and disgusting. His mother would not possibly understand what had happened to him this past summer and furthermore, he could not burden her with his problems. He could not burden anyone with them – not even Serpentina, who knew him better than most.

A dark shadow flickered in Serpentina's fine eyes as she watched him for a moment more. Then she quietly exited the room, leaving Antioch to the boiling hatred that was slowly consuming his being.


	2. Chapter 2

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## Dealing With Death

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Ignotus could feel himself slowly waking, and he buried himself deeper within the thick, warm blankets, intent on trying to doze a bit longer. For some reason, he didn't particularly want to wake up. His brow furrowed and his brain tried to work out the reason. And then, without warning, the rush of memories from the day before flooded his mind so fast that they were acutely painful – his father was dead, and his brothers had grown apart from Ignotus, bonded together through the experience of war, and they had changed drastically since the last time he had seen them. For a brief second, he remembered dead, angry look in Antioch's eyes and the dull expression on Cadmus' face.

Ignotus jerked awake and groaned. It was no good trying to sleep any longer, now. The wave of sadness over his father's death was terrible, and he would have started to cry at that moment, except that his stomach rumbled, bringing with it another memory from the night before. He had skipped dinner in remembrance of his father, and feigned sleep when his dormitory mates had come up to go to bed. Ross had called his name softly, but Ignotus had never answered, and his best mate had given up. Despite that, Ignotus still overheard the whispered conversation Ross had had with Rowe and Ansen, as the three discussed the fact that they needed to treat Ignotus with caution during the next few days, given the turn of events. He assumed Antioch and Cadmus had gone to dinner, and now the entire school knew of the Peverell family's tragedy. Angrily, Ignotus had gripped the blankets so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but after a while, his friends went to sleep, and his fury faded into a hollow, terrible sort of feeling.

He would have to get something to eat this morning, but Ignotus didn't want to go into the Great Hall just yet. He wondered if he could Summon breakfast to his bed, or coerce a house-elf into helping him. And while he was at it, he needed to take a bath, too. He had been playing Shuntbumps the entire previous week during his free time, which had resulted in several falls and good-natured mud fights. He was positively filthy. He would need to ask the elves to clean his bedclothes, too.

The bath was something he didn't particularly want, but Ignotus forced himself to get out of bed and cautiously peeked through his curtains. The dormitory was empty. Sunlight was streaming in through the tall windows, signaling that the rain had passed on, and he was fairly certain that his mates were outside enjoying a perfect autumn day. Sighing with relief, Ignotus slipped across the room and into the bathroom.

He made his way to the stone tub and turned several copper taps set into the wall beside it, which began to spout thick streams of water into the basin. Indoor baths had been Mistress Helga's idea, according to some of the house-elves. Rumor had it that she had been absolutely appalled when Master Godric suggested the students jump in the lake whenever they got too dirty, and she had devised special stone rooms for each dormitory with water taps and deep tubs – a true novelty, and a bit odd for the students who only knew of baths in the sense of filling a wooden tub with well or river water once a week. Apparently she had gotten the idea from Roman wizards, several centuries earlier.

As the stone hollow filled with hot water, Ignotus slowly stripped his clothing off until he was naked. Despite the tapestries hung about the dormitory to keep the cold out, it was still chilly, and with chattering teeth he climbed into the tub and sank down to his chin, relaxing immediately. The heat of the water quickly seeped into his skin, until he felt perfectly warm and his eyes drifted shut. He could almost forget tragedy here, stretched out in the hot water. He could almost forget everything, really…

"You'll go to sleep and the water will get cold," a soft, slightly sardonic voice said, interrupting his doze. "Then you'll freeze to death."

Ignotus jerked so sharply that he sent water splashing across the stone floor. Instinctively he pressed his legs together as he glanced behind him and stared in shock at Callisto, who was standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a small smile. She was wearing a gown of deep wine red, with a long black cloak over her shoulders.

"W-what are you…? _What_ …? This is the _boy's_ dormitory!" he finally spluttered.

Callisto blushed and kept her eyes diverted. "Ross said you were still asleep, so I brought your breakfast up. You didn't eat dinner and I thought you might be hungry. I didn't realize you were in the bath until I stepped in. I'll wait outside, shall I?" With that, she inclined her head, turned quickly, and stepped back into the dormitory, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.

Flustered and suddenly incredibly hot despite the water, Ignotus dunked beneath the surface and emerged completely soaked, with rivulets running down his face from his now plastered, dripping hair. Pushing it off his forehead, and making it stick up in all directions; he looked back at the door, embarrassed. Callisto Stewart had walked in on his _bath_. He was naked, and she hadn't seemed to care. He wondered for a wild second what it would be like to soak in a stone bath of hot water _with_ her. The thought of Callisto naked and pressed to his body made his cock react instantly, and Ignotus gritted his teeth and clenched his hands together. She was an excellent distraction from everything else – that was certain. Even his father seemed to vanish from his thoughts as he curled his hand around his erection and imagined Callisto nude, relaxing in the bath with him.

After a few minutes, he finally managed to stagger to his feet, now limp but not exactly sated. Rising out of the water invited the cold to tingle his skin, and he grabbed a thick cloth from the rack beside the tub and began to dry off. He then preformed a quick cleaning spell on his clothes and hurriedly dressed.

When Ignotus stepped into the dormitory again, flushed and embarrassed, he found Callisto sitting on the edge of his bed, reading a Charms book. On his desk was a tray of porridge and milk, beneath a Warming Charm. He suddenly remembered just how starved he was. He sat down and immediately began to eat, deliberately not looking in her direction. But after a couple of bites, a sudden, soft heat made him look up – his very head was growing _warm_.

"You'll catch cold if you leave your hair wet," she said gently.

She was using her wand to dry the thick black locks.

"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't trust his voice, and it was hard not to be head over heels for a girl who brought your breakfast up, didn't mind seeing you naked in the bath, and dried your hair while you ate.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your bath," she said guiltily. "I'm really sorry, Ignotus. I didn't know you were in there until I looked in."

"It's fine. I didn't mean to get upset. You just surprised me." He swallowed a spoon of porridge, though it seemed to have a difficult time going down his throat. When he finally felt he could open his mouth again, he muttered, "What are the others saying?"

Callisto was silent for a moment – she had finished drying his hair, and she slowly sat back down on his bed. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and she bravely said, "The House of Godric feels as you do, because you are one of us. We grieve _with_ you, Ignotus. Just as the Houses of Salazar and Rowena grieve with Antioch and Cadmus. Helga's students grieve with all, because that is their nature."

Ignotus almost bent his spoon as a sudden onrush of anger filled him. "I don't want pity! I just want… I don't know! I don't want everyone staring at me, knowing my father wasn't strong enough to –"

"Don't _ever_ say that. Of course your father was strong!"

He stopped and stared at her. He had temporarily forgotten that she had no parents, and he wondered with a fresh pang of guilt at, how in a time span of six years, he had never asked her what had happened to them. No one ever had, to his knowledge.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean it quite that way. I just meant –"

"I know what you meant. You meant that you want to the pain to end. That you want to feel like _Ignotus_ again, and not as though a _monster_ was eating at you from the inside out."

Ignotus stared at her.

Callisto smiled sadly. As if she read his mind, she said softly, "I was five summers when my parents died."

"I'm sorry."

He looked back at his breakfast. He was unsure what to say, but Callisto, at least, seemed to understand how he felt. For a moment, he pushed the mushy porridge about in the pewter bowl.

She went on, "Just because you lose someone doesn't mean you will forever feel as though the pain is constantly eating you from the inside out. After a few months, perhaps a year or two, the pain fades and becomes a bit dull, and then after another year, you find that you are living again, and you wonder how you ever did it."

In a small voice, Ignotus asked, "When your parents died, who took you in? You were so young – you didn't have housemates to help you, then."

She paused, and then said, "My uncle took me in. He even sought revenge on the dark wizards who killed my parents so I would not grow up with thirsting for their blood. He is a very brave man. The bravest in the world, I believe." She squeezed his shoulder, but before Ignotus could ask further questions, Callisto had left the room.

For a long while, Ignotus sat at his desk, staring into the bowl of porridge, until at last it grew so cold he could not force himself to eat any more. Callisto's words raced about in his head, and he wondered when he would stop feeling the raw pain of his father's death. He could not see so far into the future, and though Callisto had trodden this path before, taking her advice at face value was difficult. Abruptly, Ignotus stood up and fastened his cloak around his shoulders. The dormitory was suddenly claustrophobic, and he had a maddening desire to escape into the bitterly cold outdoors.

He headed downstairs and entered the common room, but a quick glance about made him wish that he could become invisible. Several of his mates were gathered around the fire, playing chess or reading. Silently, Ignotus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, before exiting through the portrait hole. No one saw him, though he did hear Perseus comment that he saw a blimp of movement against the wall and that he thought the portrait had opened. Before a gaggle of curious, hot-headed Gryffindor students could inspect the area to determine if a member of another house had invaded their common room, Ignotus broke into a run down the corridor, taking a shortcut through a tapestry of a forest full of stags and down a narrow, spiraling staircase to the fifth floor. He didn't stop running until he reached the marble staircase in the main hall, and he was grateful to find that the entrance hall was empty. He removed the charm he had placed on his body and quickly headed outside into the cold wind.

Only, the wind was worse than just _cold_ – it cut through Ignotus's thick woolen cloak like icy needles and stung at his face. Rather than keep his cloak bundled tightly about him, Ignotus started to run again, down the sweeping lawn towards the lake, letting the energy warm his body. He ducked behind a tall, stoned wall that extended along part of the path, and only when he found a secluded alcove did he sit down on the stone bench within. Here, the wind did not cut through so badly. He was sheltered by the high arch of stones and a statute of a Greek witch, who was dressed in a long robe that left one shoulder and both arms bare. He sighed and leaned against the cold masonry, catching his breath with tightly closed eyes. Staying here for a few hours seemed quite plausible...

"Unless you catch your death of cold," a voice drawled lightly, as if the owner had read his mind.

Ignotus sat up abruptly, his eyes snapping open. To his surprise, Godric Gryffindor stood before him, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. He seemed completely unconcerned by the wind and cold. Without invitation, Ignotus's Founder sat beside him, and turned his gaze towards the row of hedges opposite them.

"The cold weather fires the blood," he commented heartily. "It gives strength."

Keeping his eyes diverted, Ignotus desperately tried to think of something to say, but his brain seemed stuck and sluggish.

"I saw you sprinting down the hillside. I had a distinct feeling you were trying to escape, Ignotus. I thought I should follow you."

"I was not trying to escape! I am not a coward!" The words blurted from Ignotus's mouth before he considered them, and he stiffened when they echoed in the cold air. He was being impertinent.

" _Hold!_ " Godric chuckled with good nature. "No one said you were, boy."

Ashamed, Ignotus winced. "I apologize, Master Godric. It was ill of me to say so."

"There is no need to apologize." Godric gently placed his strong hand on Ignotus's shoulder. "You had a terrible blow yesterday, and quite honestly, I did not expect you to remain in the tower. I would have been astounded if you had." He paused and turned his golden gaze towards the hedges again. "Winter has come early this year," he sighed. "In so many ways."

Ignotus swallowed. "I wish... If I had just _been_ there... Perhaps I could have..."

Godric shook his head. "No. You do not want to wish such a thing, and even if you had been there, there was nothing you could have done. Even your brothers were unable to prevent Fate. I am not suggesting that your skills are not formidable – quite the opposite. You have extremely impressive skill, Ignotus. Quite extraordinary for one your age. But you are not ready for war yet." He sighed wearily. "No one is ever ready for war."

"I feel as though I am! I was ready last summer when Antioch and Cadmus left home to fight! I'm sixteen! I'm a man just as they are!"

Godric smiled sadly. "But you _are_ the youngest, and someone had to care for your mother. She would have been devastated if you had left with your brothers and your father to fight in the Clan Wars. If you had, all of her family would have been in grave danger. And you still have much to learn here, Ignotus."

"You constantly tell me I have power above those of my age! Now you tell me I have much to learn –!"

"We all have much to learn. Even I! Learning does not stop when you turn sixteen; it does not stop when you turn one hundred and sixteen. You _are_ young, Ignotus. But I did not mean to imply that your youth makes you a coward, nor does it devalue your bravery and courage. I simply meant that your skills are needed elsewhere at this time."

Ignotus tried a different tactic. Gloomily, he said, "But if I had bravery and courage, I would have gone with my brothers. You accepted me to learn beneath you, Master Godric. They were not selected for bravery and courage as I was, and yet I was the one who remained behind."

"Just because they were not accepted under my tutelage does not mean they are not brave men. Nor is bravery measured by how many wars you fight in. Antioch and Cadmus knew that you were not old enough to accompany them this year, despite your bravery, and I would be shocked if they held that against you."

"But what of my father? He knew you had taken me in as one of your students. He expected great things of me. I wanted to fight alongside him to prove myself! I wanted him to know I was not afraid to fight!" Tears pricked Ignotus's eyes, and he angrily clenched his fists and looked away, lest Godric notice. "Now, he is dead, and he will enter the afterlife believing I was _nothing_ compared to my brothers. He will believe I am just a coward who returned to school rather than to the north of Alba to fight in the Clan Wars like a brave son of our family should have done!"

Godric remained silent for a moment before he murmured, "Your father knew of your bravery. He wrote me several times to express his admiration of your qualities, Ignotus. I would not wish you to believe your father disapproved of you, because that is _not_ the truth."

Ignotus looked at his Founder helplessly. "Will the pain ever cease?" he whispered, realizing how childish and silly the words must sound; how childish _everything_ he had been saying must have sounded.

But Godric did not say he had been childish, nor did he look at Ignotus with disappointment. Instead, his voice was kind and sad. "The pain will cease...eventually. A dull hollow that will forever remain within you will likely replace it. The knowledge of your father's death and this trying time will forever be a part of you. But that is the way of life, Ignotus. It is a cycle, never-ending and timeless, like so many things in our world. Like war and battle. War never ceases, you see. There are times of peace, yes. But where there is peace, there will always be those to start wars, and those to stop them, and so it continues. I daresay you will one day have chance enough to prove yourself in battle. Though, having been in many battles myself, I cannot help but wish otherwise for you, Ignotus. Battle and war are not the things of glory that others would have you believe. They are bleak, grim parts of life that sap your strength and the power of your soul."

"But remember this," he added. "Where there are battles and war that drain life, there will there also be courage, bravery, and goodness. For therein lies the timeless struggle: Good, pitched against Evil. And each man must decide for himself which side he will fight against, even in the grayest of battles where the lines do not appear properly drawn."

Ignotus looked surprised at first; then his expression became determined, if not a bit irritated. "I will fight on the side of Good, of course. Always."

Godric shook his head. "And yet, it is not always so simple, my boy. I fear my words mean little to you now, but one day they will."

"I am trying to make sense of them, sir."

"And I credit you with that!" Godric chuckled softly. "You are always eager to learn and grasp the truth of things."

"If I may say so, sir..." Ignotus swallowed. "Today my mind feels as though it has been wrung out thoroughly; as though I cannot think at all."

"It will feel that way for several days, I fear. Perhaps even a couple of weeks. But I wish you to remember that I am here for you. If you desire to talk, I ask you to seek me. However, I must implore you not to leave the castle or the immediate grounds. Winter is a dangerous time of year."

Ignotus nodded solemnly. "As you wish, sir."

"Let us return inside." Godric rose, his tall frame towering over Ignotus, who was in his own right quite tall. "It is bitter out, isn't it?" He looked towards the sky. "Despite the sun today, I expect we shall have snow before two weeks."

"I dislike winter," Ignotus said moodily. "It is too cold."

"You prefer the summer." His Founder nodded in agreement. "Because you were born in the seventh month. I've noticed that Antioch prefers the winter, whilst Cadmus prefers the autumn. We all prefer the season we were born into. An interesting magic in its own right."

Unsure how to respond or what this meant, Ignotus chose to remain silent – the conversation had taken a more intellectual turn, but deep inside he still felt drained and exhausted and unlike himself. He half-wished he could remain outdoors and let the bleakness seep into his body and soul, but his master was right: it would only serve to make him ill with fever if he were to ignore prudence.

When they entered the Entrance Hall a few minutes later, Godric said, "You may wish to seek your brothers out today. They are undoubtedly as troubled as you are regarding the recent events. It may help to speak to them, and to comfort them if possible."

Ignotus nodded, though he had no real conviction to seek out either Antioch or Cadmus. Both his brothers had changed drastically in the few months they had spent in the north, and he felt as though they had crossed an invisible bridge to a new place while he remained stuck on the opposite side, separated from them. The day before had seemed proof of that.

A soft, musical voice added, "I know Cadmus is quite unlike himself."

Ignotus and Godric turned, and both bowed politely to Rowena Ravenclaw as she approached them. She murmured, "He is quite troubled by your father's death, Ignotus. I only just caught him wandering the upper halls, though I confess I could not bring myself to issue a punishment for breaking the rules and leaving the tower. Some instances exceed the rules we set," she said thoughtfully.

"A little rule breaking is necessary now and again." Godric's voice was light and pleasant, and he winked slyly at Ignotus, who found that he grinned slightly in return.

Then he realized how odd it felt to smile, as though his muscles were stiff and the action was wrong. How could he smile when his father had been killed? Horrified and angry with himself, Ignotus's mouth turned down again.

"Oddly, I agree, Godric." Rowena pressed a slender finger to her lips, still thinking. Then, abruptly, her face returned to a mask-like state as well. "I will meet with you later, good sir. I must collect my parchments for next week's lessons. We have much to discuss when we meet this afternoon." She turned and floated up the marble staircase without further comment.

"See if you can find your brother," Godric suggested. "As Rowena so rightly says, the Founders are meeting this afternoon to discuss lessons, and I too must gather my parchments." He managed a smile at Ignotus before he followed Rowena.

Alone, Ignotus looked about the empty entrance hall. Cadmus could be anywhere, but his favorite location to review his lessons was a small alcove on the sixth floor, tucked away in a narrow corridor that faced the lake. And Rowena Ravenclaw had just stated he was wandering on the upper flowers. Ignotus headed there.

It did not take him long to reach his destination. And as he rounded the corner to the corridor in question, he could see a woman standing with her back to him, facing the alcove he was seeking. The gold of her gown indicated she belonged beneath Mistress Helga.

Ignotus hesitated. He was not overly fond of his brother's beloved. Despite her beauty, her wealth and her family's power gave her an attitude akin to arrogance, and she often looked down on others whom she believed less important than herself. Coupled with her simpering devotion to Cadmus, which was unwavering, she could be practically unbearable. Ignotus could only spend a few moments in her presence before quickly finding something else to occupy his time.

However, he could not escape this time. Cearo had heard his footsteps, and she turned in curiosity to see who was approaching. She regarded Ignotus with a surprised expression for a moment; then, glancing into the alcove, she murmured, "Your brother".

Cadmus's head appeared from the alcove. For the briefest second he looked hopeful, but upon seeing the brother she had referred to was Ignotus and not Antioch, he scowled and disappeared into the alcove again.

Angry, Ignotus immediately stalked forward, ignoring Cearo and stopping before the alcove. Cadmus was sitting within, his knees drawn to his chest. He did not look at his younger brother and Ignotus had to remind himself not to lose his temper just yet.

Instead, he said shortly, "Mistress Rowena advised me you were wandering the castle. She assigned me the task of locating you."

"For what purpose?" Cadmus muttered.

"Damned if I know," Ignotus snapped. "Something about comforting you, but you obviously do not wish to see me."

Cearo frowned at them and spoke before Cadmus could. "Neither of you should be angry with the other," she reminded them. "Cadmus, your brother is just as hurt as you are about what happened to your father."

"He wasn't there. He didn't see it." Cadmus was holding something in his hand, twisting it beneath his fingers. His knuckles clutched convulsively on the object, hiding it completely from Ignotus's view.

"That doesn't mean he isn't hurt by the news," Cearo reiterated.

Ignotus was surprised the girl was taking his side at all. She almost always sided with Cadmus on various matters – he had more than once wondered if she had an opinion of her own. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

"I watched my father die." Cadmus suddenly looked quite furious; the expression made Ignotus tense. It was strange and frightening. He had assumed his brothers would be dealing with their father's death the same way he was – but clearly, Cadmus was dealing with the ordeal in an entirely different manner.

"I never said you didn't watch him die," Ignotus said slowly.

" _You weren't there._ "

"No, I wasn't. But that doesn't mean I didn't _want_ to be there. Someone had to stay with mother. I certainly did not choose to be the youngest."

"And your task," Cearo said, "was just as important as Cadmus and Antioch's. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise, Ignotus."

He stared at her. "It was. I am glad someone else understands that."

Cearo seemed to see his surprise in his expression. She shrugged one shoulder in her usual haughty way, and said, "I have never thought of how you felt until just recently – Cadmus has been quite distraught by what has happened and it occurred to me that you must feel much worse. After all, you heard the news in such an unexpected way. It must have been hard for you."

Startled, he said, "It was. Thank you."

She inclined her head politely.

Cadmus however, did not seem happy with Cearo's sudden niceties to Ignotus. He glowered at her. "He did not watch father's blood spill or hear his scream when he died." His voice was full of malice which was designed to cut Ignotus to the quick; Ignotus had braced himself as best he could when he had seem the sudden, hateful gleam in Cadmus's eyes, but it didn't help much.

"You are only half correct," a cold voice replied. "He did _not_ see father's blood spill, but father _never_ screamed. The scream you heard was your own, Cadmus."

Cadmus visibly flinched. Ignotus turned sharply to face his oldest brother. Antioch was carrying two large tomes under one arm as though they weighed little and his face was set in hard lines as he glared at Cadmus. Ignotus had not even heard his footsteps in the hall prior to his arrival.

"Do not take your emotions out on Ignotus," Antioch went on harshly. "Miss Raedwald is quite correct. Ignotus had a different, though no less important task to fulfill while we did battle in the Clan Wars. He does not deserve your censure, so cease."

Cadmus's knuckles were white. "He is a coward."

This time, Ignotus's temper got the better of him. He snatched his wand from his robes before Cadmus could react. He pointed the wand at Cadmus's throat and snarled, "Do not _dare_ to call me a coward!"

Antioch's strong fingers closed on his wrist, drawing Ignotus's wand away from Cadmus, while Cadmus looked both stunned and furious. Ignotus fought against his elder brother's hand in vain.

"That won't help matters," Antioch said sternly, scowling at Ignotus. "So calm your temper. _Now_." He then turned the scowl on Cadmus. "And you. Do not torment him. He is no coward. _You_ are the coward," he said with disgust. "The scream you heard when father fell was your own. You screamed and cried like a child who had no regard for manhood or dignity. Would it better Ignotus _had_ come with father and me to the north to fight, and we had left you at home with mother. He at least would have displayed courage in battle. He was not chosen to learn beneath Master Godric if not for that."

"I do not have to listen to such insults!" Cadmus snarled, rising from the alcove and glaring at Antioch, who stood several inches taller and did not appear troubled by his brother's anger in the least. "I watched my father die!"

"As did I," Antioch reminded him frostily. "Do not forget that, Cadmus. You are not the only one who suffers the pain of death. However, you should find some way to channel your pain, as I am doing."

"You mean, such as studying wandlore?" Cadmus sneered. "As if _that_ will help?"

Antioch did not appear perturbed by the outburst. "I believe it will. Athol claimed he had a superior wand, which enabled him to defeat the most battle-hardened and accomplished of warriors. Wands are, however, created by wizards and it is said that a wand is only as good as the wizard who wields it. However, if I can create a superior wand to Athol's, I could avenge father's death."

Cadmus laughed mirthlessly. "A meaningless task!"

"Avenging father is meaningless?" Antioch asked slowly. There was a hard look in his eyes that made Ignotus tense just as he had when seeing the mad look on Cadmus's features before.

Venturing to interrupt and risk Antioch's anger, he queried, "Avenge, or revenge?"

"Call it what you wish. I care not." Antioch shrugged. "I intend to follow through with it regardless. Do not forget, Ignotus: despite my belief that you would have been the better brother to take with me into battle, you are still but sixteen and have much to learn."

Ignotus felt a surge of annoyance. "Those are the words Master Godric said to me this morning."

"You would be wise to listen to your Founder. He is correct. There is nothing to be done about what has come to pass, only what is yet to come."

"There is nothing yet to come," Cadmus interjected. He was trembling slightly; Cearo grasped his arm in concern but he did not look at her. "Father is dead, Antioch. And he should not be."

Antioch's lip curled. "It is not our place to question Destiny or what may have been had things taken a different turn. This cannot be changed."

"Can't it?" Cadmus's voice was quiet and it was almost as though he were speaking to himself. A sudden light flared in his dull eyes. "We are wizards, Antioch. Magic can indeed change things."

Ignotus shot Antioch a look of utmost concern – Cadmus was speaking like a madman. The look Antioch gave his youngest brother in return indicated he thought so as well.

"Magic cannot change Death," Antioch said slowly, glancing back at Cadmus.

"Perhaps we have not yet studied deep enough." Cadmus's eyes glittered brightly, as though an idea was taking hold of him. "Perhaps we have not yet tapped into the deepest secrets of magic. There may be ways..."

"Have you gone mad?" whispered Cearo. Her eyes flickered to Antioch and Ignotus, then back to her lover again. "The dead cannot be made alive again, Cadmus!"

"No? We shall see." Cadmus looked at Antioch smugly. "You wish to make a wand superior to all others and you suggest that I channel my anger, too. Very well. I shall take your suggestion and advise you once I have done additional research on this new idea. I shall come up with something much better than a mere _wand_."

And before Antioch or Ignotus could respond, Cadmus had taken Cearo's hand and was guiding her down the corridor and around the corner, despite her look of horror.

Ignotus shook his head once he was certain his brother was gone. "He is mad. What does he mean to do? Cearo is right – the dead remain dead." His shoulders dropped. "Much as I wish I could see father again, I know perfectly well there is no hope in _that_."

Antioch shifted the thick books, both of which Ignotus now noticed were on wandlore. "I know not. When father died, Cadmus changed," he said slowly. "He would wake at night screaming, or he would talk to himself during the day, as though he were talking to father, as if father were beside him to answer. The men in camp insisted he was mad. I wonder now if they were not correct in their theories."

"And you? How are you?" Ignotus looked at his brother gravely. Antioch was always aloof and distant, but he was still the oldest and he did look out for his younger brothers. Ignotus could not help but feel concerned for him. Antioch would be carrying the most weight on his shoulders simply _because_ he was the oldest.

"I?" Antioch's eyes clouded. For a moment, he gazed down the corridor. Then he turned to Ignotus and smiled softly. "I will be myself again, in time. Do not worry for me, brother."

"I worry for both of my brothers."

"Let me worry. You should focus on your studies." Antioch began to walk, indicating for Ignotus to come with him. "What will your focus be this year, Ignotus?" he asked, changing the conversation smoothly.

"Master Godric wishes me to continue studying the Dark Arts and their Defenses, as usual." Ignotus sighed. "At the start of the term, he suggested I study privately with him and explore new spells and techniques, such as the Patronus Charm and other high-level spells designed for combat."

"A worthy field of study. One that suits you well."

"So Master Godric says."

"You are unsure?"

The fear that had been welling up inside of him all morning tentatively voiced itself. "I sometimes wonder if I am brave enough to study beneath Master Godric."

Antioch turned down a flight of stairs to the third floor. "Do not let Cadmus's anger and brash words affect you so. He is only angry because he does not have your bravery and courage. Study Defense, Ignotus. It will serve a worthy purpose and be useful in the future."

When Antioch paused at a tapestry that concealed a staircase that led to the ground floor, Ignotus asked, "Where do you go today?"

"I intend to do research on wandlore in my dormitory. It is quiet there and I can spread my books out for better review. Once I have a basic understanding of the subject, I will speak with Deogal Ollivander and see if he will accept me as a temporary apprentice. I could learn much from him."

"Please be careful, Antioch."

A smirk etched Antioch's classic features. "I am _always_ careful. Return to the tower and see your friends – they were worried about you when you didn't come to dinner last night."

Ignotus sighed petulantly as Antioch disappeared down the steps. After his brother was gone, he shivered and decided that he did not particularly wish to see his friends, even if they were worried about his wellbeing. What he really wanted to do was run again. He wanted to run away, and let the pounding of his feet on hard ground send shocks up his legs and keep him going onward.

But he had promised his Founder that he would remain in the castle or the courtyards, and he knew he could not go back on his word. Sighing heavily, he began to trudge back to the seventh floor.

Running, he decided wretchedly, was truly the act of a coward. And yet, he still wanted to run. How could he be worthy of being a student of Godric Gryffindor if he was so terrified of death? He did not know the answer.


	3. Chapter 3

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## The Death Debate

****

A week later, as groups of students hurried down the corridors to various lessons, Ignotus found that he was trudging behind his fellow Gryffindors by several feet, and had been for several days.

They weren't ignoring him, and he wasn't exactly ignoring them. But it was as though a rift had formed between them that Ignotus would have to bridge at some point. The others were worried and concerned for him, but they would not to push him to resume his former, cheerful, boisterous personality. They gave him space to think and grieve. Or perhaps they simply didn't know what to say, so they said nothing.

In one way, Ignotus was grateful for the distance. On the other hand, he was irritated by it. The distraction of being included in a large group of friends would have been a relief from the dark, lonely thoughts that had been consuming him for the past week. But with painful reflection, he decided that he probably wouldn't be able to pull off his usual laughter even if he were in the center of his fellow Gryffindors' antics. He would only destroy his mates' cheerfulness with his grief, and that would be worse. They didn't deserve that from him; this was his family's period of mourning. He would carry the burden of sadness alone until he felt he could cross the rift and be a part of his friends' lives once more as the Ignotus they remembered.

A deep green cloak brushed past him as Ignotus turned up a flight of stairs. He glanced quickly behind him, but Antioch did not turn round or speak. Since their verbal disagreement with Cadmus, the eldest Peverell brother had been rather distant, too. Even the students of Slytherin had commented that Antioch was keeping to himself more than usual these past few days.

With a heavy sigh, Ignotus began to climb again. He would have liked to speak to his brother, but Antioch was not one to share his problems or seek support from anyone, and never had been.

Pushing Antioch to the back of his mind, Ignotus focused on the scarlet cloaks of Ross, Perseus, Gaderian, Ansen, and Rowe, which were now several paces ahead of him. His friends lighted upon the landing of the stairs and headed down a wide corridor towards this morning's classroom, not bothering to look behind them. They were eagerly discussing their latest Defense lecture, and Ignotus wished he could join in, he could think of nothing constructive to say.

The previous day, Godric had intrigued them with a discussion on honorable battle techniques that were quite powerful and effective. Godric was a master of many fields of magic, but Defense was one of his strongest, and his students were always enthralled with these types of lessons. Today, they would be practicing Defense on the fifth floor, before heading to the Great Hall for dinner that afternoon, which would be followed by the first quarterly round table discussion on a topic selected by the Founders. But no one was thinking of the upcoming round table discussion. Instead, Ignotus's classmates were solely thrilled to have a chance of practicing against their Master, because he was _so_ good at dueling. It was challenging, though none of them ever believed they could defeat him. Godric was, after all, the best.

As they reached the classroom door, the girls of Gryffindor House joined them from the other end of the hall. Callisto, Cantrella, Hesperia, Edsel, and Elva wore long dresses and cloaks in their Founder's color, and were deep in conversation about the prior lecture as well.

Cantrella Dreux commanded attention as the boys drew nearer, as she always did, and Ignotus glanced up to listen to her just as the others had. Anything, he thought, to take his mind off everything else – even listening to Cantrella, who was a snobbish pureblood related to the wealthy, powerful House of Black through her mother. He'd often wondered how she had come to study beneath Godric, but he'd heard once that Godric and Salazar had debated heavily over Cantrella's placement when she had first arrived at Hogwarts. Apparently, she had qualities that suited her best for the Founder of bravery and courage than any of the others, but Ignotus could always see something dark lurking beneath Cantrella's heavily lidded, smoldering eyes, and it annoyed him.

"We were just discussing the finer points of Master Godric's reflections yesterday," she said more pleasantly than usual, though there was still a sharp expression in her haughty features. "Does not the Caecus Curse seem difficult? Master Godric suggested that it takes great presence of mind to cast it properly."

" _I_ don't expect to find it difficult, though I can't imagine we would be practicing it today." Perseus Weasley frowned. "Master Godric has yet to teach us the counter-curse, after all."

"Perhaps he's expecting one of us to use the curse against him so he can teach us the counter-curse in practice," suggested Elva, who was one of the youngest of the lot.

And without any warning whatsoever, Ignotus's stomach began to writhe and twist, while his friends continued their light banter over which curses, hexes, and jinxes they would be applying themselves to this morning. He had a sudden desire to bolt back to the tower and not attend the practical at all. How odd! A week earlier, he had been only too eager to prove himself, and he always loved to spar against his master. Bile tickled the back of his throat unpleasantly and he slumped against the wall, desperate to calm his nerves.

The simple truth of the matter was, that he didn't _want_ to fight today. That was all there was to it. And he'd never had the urge to avoid a duel with his incredible Founder.

His closest friend, Ross Faintree, suddenly touched his shoulder. When Ignotus glanced up, he discovered Ross looked more than just concerned – there was real worry and fear in his clear brown eyes.

He whispered, "Ignotus, indeed, you have not been yourself." Then, before Ignotus could interrupt, he went on in a quiet rush, possibly hoping no one would overhear. "I can understand why, truly I can, but we are all gravely worried for you. Are you well? You look terrible."

But despite Ross's attempts to keep his voice low, the cheerful chatter around them ceased almost instantly and Ignotus felt sweat clamming in the creases of his palms. He couldn't bear them to all stare at him and talk behind his back. Anger rose in him like fire; he suddenly despised his best friend for speaking at all in front of the others, even in hushed tones.

And then, a moment later, before he could lose his temper, he realized his classmates had fallen silent. Not because of his depression, but because Godric was approaching.

He immediately wondered if he was overly paranoid, and as quick as his anger had swept through him, so did the emotion of shame for his thoughts regarding Ross. Ross had been at his side ever since their entrance to Hogwarts the same autumn, and he would never have turned his back on Ignotus or spoken ill of him with the others. And yet, Ignotus had felt the poison of hatred just because Ross had been concerned for his wellbeing. Perhaps he was going mad, as Cadmus seemed to be. That thought was as bad as all the rest.

Godric did not notice this awkward exchange or Ignotus's pale expression, however. He merely smiled with enthusiasm as he approached his students and unlocked the classroom door with his wand. Ushering them inside, he said, "Today, as promised, we will be dueling. I will be taking turns to partner with each of you to determine where your skill level is at present; how much you've learned and applied the last few weeks. Keep in mind yesterday's lecture as you fight me! Always fight fairly and with honor, but remember that your enemy may not – and often _will not_ – be fighting the same way. You must always have tricks up your sleeve to combat those who will show you no mercy. Now, line up against the east wall, please. I will call you forward one by one."

Ignotus slumped into his place between Ross and Perseus, and resumed his worrying. He would not have time to apologize to his best mate until after the practicum, and that seemed like an eternity away.

And in the meantime, he still didn't want to fight. His love for Godric's teaching and incredible skill wasn't enough to make him want to raise his wand. He knew it was a reaction to his father's death: a defense mechanism in which he was curling up within himself to avoid confrontation. His father, and likely his mother, would be ashamed of him for such a reaction to a natural part of life. Ignotus gritted his teeth tightly to stop some of the pain inside of him.

But the real distraction came when Godric called Elva to the front. Compared to their Founder, Elva was quite small, elfin, and ethereal in her appearance, but despite her age of just fourteen, she was incredibly talented. Within seconds of the duel's start, she had used four spells against Godric that no one had been expecting. Ansen even had to throw up a protection spell to prevent being hit by one of hers that ricocheted off a wall, and after thirty seconds Godric put an end to the first mock duel.

"Excellent!" he said proudly. "But you must remember, Miss Port, not to use such strong spells except in a last resort. Using them at the beginning is indeed one strategy; it catches your opponent off guard and enables you to possibly overpower him immediately. But if your opponent is a skilled fighter, he will likely retaliate – and then your tricks are used, giving you less of a chance to defeat him. Next! Miss Taillebois!"

Elva bowed politely, but there was marked frustration in her expression as she returned to the wall to wait, and Hesperia Taillebois passed her with a smirk, her long golden curls rippling down her back as she stood to her fullest height and tilted her chin back, ready to go against Godric.

And so it went. After Hesperia, Edsel stepped forward and used a little-known jinx that she had only discovered the week before during her private studies – Godric was incredibly impressed that she had learned it so quickly, and that she had even found it at all. Cantrella, on the other hand, surprised everyone by using several strong offensive spells against her Master's attacks, for which she was highly praised.

The final girl to fight Godric was Callisto, who fought longer than all of her dorm mates, and with skill surpassing theirs by far. Ignotus wondered where she had learned to fight so fiercely. It had always been thus. Nothing seemed to catch her off guard; she remained perfectly calm but intensely focused in all of their practices. But then, he had always wondered why Callisto's spell work was so advanced. No one really thought about it until they saw her abilities in a practical, but the truth was, she knew more magic than most of them combined. But she was always so quiet and sweet that she never failed to catch Ignotus off his guard when he least expected it. Perhaps she was simply exceptionally talented. Perhaps Godric had been teaching her privately, as he was teaching Ignotus privately once a week in Defense.

But whatever the secret behind Callisto's mysterious abilities, the fact remained that she had fought the best out of all of the girls. Godric, too, seemed most pleased with her skills, but surprisingly, he did not linger to give additional praise to Callisto as he had the other girls, which Ignotus thought was a bit unfair. She had fought better than anyone so far; she should have received the highest praise. And yet, Callisto herself did not seem perturbed by the fact that Godric had not praised her. She merely returned to her space against the wall with a placid expression.

Ignotus simply could not understand it.

But he did not have time to dwell on it, because the boys were next.

He swallowed as, one by one, his friends stepped forward to duel with Godric. This round was slightly more violent than the girls' session. Spells bounced off the ceiling and floor and one thrown by Perseus went through the narrow window in the corner of the west wall to explode in violent shades of red and orange outside against the gray sky. No less than eight times did someone have to throw up a protection spell to shield those standing against the east wall.

And finally, Godric called Ignotus forward. He was the last of the boys to step up, and he could feel everyone staring at him as he moved to the center of the room. He wondered if they were whispering about him, but there was an odd buzzing in his ears that prevented him from hearing anything else.

His mouth felt dry, as well. Perhaps Godric would realize he didn't want to fight and their duel would last only a few short seconds. He could even stand the constructive criticism at this point if he fought poorly – anything for his mock duel to be over and done. His palms were sweaty again and his wand slipped between his fingers; he tried to grip it more tightly as he fell into stance and raised it to begin.

Godric waited for what seemed an eternity; then, without warning, threw a spell nonverbally, almost catching Ignotus off guard.

And instantly, everything Ignotus had been feeling the past week exploded. The anger, the hurt, the pain, the frustration and humiliation, the sadness, and the grief – it all burst from him violently. He was hardly conscious of fighting; bright blinding spells went off around him and he was thinking so quickly that, later in the day, he could not recall which spells he himself had used against Godric or which spells Godric had sent at him. Nor could he remember how long he dueled his Founder. All he remembered was the sheer weight of every emotion within him finally channeling through his veins to his fingertips, and from there, through the end of the wand. All heading directly towards the man he admired so deeply, whom he would have done anything for.

And then, as instantaneously as the explosion within him had taken place, just as quickly did Godric end it.

Ignotus could only remember the feeling of shock that brought him back to his senses when he found his wand flying from his hand and clattering into the wall. He had lunged for it at the last second, horrified that he had lost it at all, but he was unable to snatch it back. Only when he stumbled and caught his balance did he realize that Godric had disarmed him on purpose to end their duel.

Taking several steadying breaths, stunned at how he had just acted, Ignotus stole a glance at the other students. To his horror, they were staring at him in shock. Humiliated, he diverted his eyes. The only students who were not staring as though he were mad were Callisto and Cantrella; the two of them seemed more interested rather than upset.

"Quite impressive," Godric murmured.

Ignotus realized his Founder had approached him and was handing his wand back. He slowly reached forward and took it, wishing his emotions hadn't gotten the better of him and that he hadn't fought like a madman. His classmates were clearly terrified and furious with him for being so forward as to fight with insanity against their noble teacher. He wondered how many times this day he would feel the sickening emotion of shame.

"Please forgive me," Ignotus whispered, putting his wand within his robe's pocket and bowing his head. "I did not fight with fairness as you requested, sir."

To his further surprise, Godric _laughed_. The sound startled Ignotus as much as his classmates' expressions had.

"But you fought _excellently_!" he said, his voice warm. Then, turning to the others, he added genially, "Class dismissed! And do not forget that we have our first round table discussion in the Great Hall after dinner today. I shall see you all then."

Ignotus stood silently as everyone filed past him and left the room. Godric did not move, either. When the door at last shut, leaving them alone, Ignotus burst into an incoherent stammering of apology, begging his Master yet again to forgive him for fighting the way he had.

Godric held up a hand. "Ignotus, cease. Apologies are unnecessary. Bottling emotion is the worst possible thing to do after a tragedy, and that is exactly what you had done. By fighting me you allowed the emotion to channel through an escape hatch! Sometimes in battle that is good – it catches the enemy off guard, like using your trump spells at the start would do. But on the other hand, it also has negative effects. It can cause you to become so blinded that you forget who you are. You forget to think properly. You become beast full of rage, hell-bent on destroying everything. I instruct you to remember that in the future. Always keep your wits about you. Emotions are important and define who we are, but when they are out of control they can become harmful instead of being an asset."

Ignotus nodded, still thoroughly embarrassed. "I understand. I will do better, Master Godric. I promise. I didn't mean to –"

Godric opened the door for him. "I know you didn't mean to, and I know you will continue to improve," he said. "And you are doing much better than Cadmus at handling your father's death, or so I hear."

A new worry filled Ignotus – one that had been festering beneath the surface like his pain and grief had. "I don't understand Cadmus," he admitted. "He isn't the brother I remember. I half-wondered if he is going mad. Yesterday, he seemed almost insane, sir."

"Death changes a person's perspective and alters everything. No one who has experienced it remains the same as they were before. But it is how we handle the pain that defines what we become next."

"He seems so lost, so upset..."

"I'm sure it will pass."

"Yes, sir." Ignotus sighed as they headed down a flight of stairs.

Perhaps Godric realized how upset his student was, because he said soberly, "I should warn you that Salazar selected a rather delicate subject for the round table discussion this evening. You and your brothers may be angry for it."

Ignotus felt his insides tighten, and he swallowed. "Oh."

"If you feel the need to leave the Great Hall, I will understand. And I will make sure no one speaks ill of you if that is the case."

Godric gave him a final smile and turned down a hidden passage behind a tapestry, leaving Ignotus bewildered and worried in the main corridor. But despite his bewilderment, he was determined that, whatever the subject Salazar had chosen, he would not, under any circumstance, leave the Great Hall and risk being ridiculed.

**oOo**

"It was as though you had gone _mad_ ," Ross hissed, grabbing a piece of bread from the bowl in front of Ignotus. "Throwing spells no one had even heard of! I don't even think you knew what you were doing! You nearly caught Master Godric off guard _twice_!"

"I know I saw him stumble once," Rowe added angrily.

Ignotus swallowed and kept his own eyes diverted. He deserved this censure, and he knew it. "I apologized to him, I assure you. Several times."

Gaderian sounded annoyed, too. "And you could definitely tell from his eyes that he wasn't expecting you to cast the Rumerio Curse. Of _all_ things! I've only even read about it in theory!"

"Where did you _learn_ such spells?" Rowe snapped. "You were using magic far beyond what we have studied thus far!"

Ignotus sighed and picked at his bread. He did not want to admit that he had been studying advanced Defense spells for the last year in great detail, under Godric's insistence and guidance. They were all angry with him for the way he had acted against Godric, but there was little to be done other than apologize repeatedly. He should have had better control over his emotions, just as Godric had said. His classmates had a high respect for their Founder and Ignotus did not blame them for their irritation at his actions. Had he witnessed someone fighting Godric the way he had been fighting, he would have been furious, too.

Callisto's voice suddenly broke the tide of anger. "Master Godric thought he did quite well." The boys instantly stopped complaining and gaped at her. She smiled. "He was impressed with the level of seriousness and effort Ignotus put into the lesson."

Ignotus gaped at her. He had assumed her kindness the week prior was real, but he had not expected her to stand up for him now. Especially when she had done so well in her own duel against Godric.

Perseus looked thunderstruck. "How do you know that?" he sputtered.

Callisto arched an eyebrow. "I heard him telling Mistress Rowena as I came into the Great Hall, just but moment ago."

"Maybe we should act like madmen next time," Ansen grumbled, reaching for a turkey leg. "I thought he was doing it because he was distraught about his father, and all along he was acting that way to get high marks."

Ignotus nearly had his wand out and was on his feet before Ross grabbed his shoulder and wrist, forcing his fingers away from the piece of wood beneath his tunic.

"Am I not _distraught_! I'm just upset, that's all! There's a difference!" he snarled, trying to break free of Ross's grip. "And I certainly didn't fight that way to get good marks!"

Ansen paled slightly at the outburst, but to his credit, he did not shrink away. Instead, he said coldly, "Then forgive me. We're simply worried about you; you aren't yourself. Do not take your anger out on your friends, Ignotus."

Callisto alone seemed to remain calm throughout this outburst. "Of course he isn't himself, and he's not taking it out on anyone deliberately." She sat down beside Ignotus and reached forward to help herself to some of the wild duck in a platter in the center of the table. "None of us would be the same after something so horrible. But it will pass."

The words rang oddly in Ignotus's ears. It was just what Godric had said only fifteen minutes prior.

_It will pass._

But when?

The others fell silent and it was several moments before Rowe finally suggested, in a tentative voice, "I wonder what our round table discussion will be about today? Master Godric did not even give us a hint."

Ignotus looked hopelessly at the pieces of shredded bread on his plate. He was suddenly no longer hungry, or perhaps he had not been hungry to start with. "He told me that my brothers and I would likely not enjoy the discussion topic. But he did not tell me what it was."

Perseus's eyes glinted and he nodded importantly. "Battle, perhaps. Especially as we've been practicing new techniques with Master Godric."

The others agreed that such a topic would make sense; Ignotus, however, felt they were wrong. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to decide what else the topic could be. The Founders always selected broad topics for each of the four round table discussions that took place throughout the year, but he couldn't pinpoint what today's topic would be about, unless it was about grief or fear.

As people finished eating and the chatter began, the pewter plates and goblets disappeared from the tables and the Founders rose from the table at the front of the hall. Instinctively, as students noticed their masters and mistresses approaching, they stood up and stepped away from their own house tables and benches, which began to rearrange themselves into a semi-circle in the center of the huge room. As soon as everything was in order, the students went forward to sit at their respective tables again. They were now facing everyone else.

Godric began, beaming at all of the students. "I hope everyone has been well-fed, but not full of sleep yet! As you all know, our round-table discussions can last for some time, and we expect everyone to participate. Tonight's topic has been chosen by Master Salazar, so I shall politely step aside, and let him inform you as to what we shall be discussing."

With that, Godric stepped back, gesturing for Salazar Slytherin to step forward. The oldest Founder did so, his robes sweeping the floor as he strode into the center of the semi-circle of tables. With one preemptory glance at the students, he said, "As always, we will have four round-table discussions throughout the year. Tonight, the topic I have chosen for our first debate is one that is ever-present in our lives; an entity that we must all come to respect and expect. That entity is as certain as time, the seasons, the ebb and flow of the tides. Tonight, we shall discuss Death."

Ignotus felt as though he had swallowed something wriggly. He glanced nervously towards the table containing the students of Rowena Ravenclaw; Cadmus had clenched his fists tightly on the rough wood and his scowl had become incredibly pronounced. At the table full of Slytherin's students however, Antioch looked expressionless.

"So," Salazar continued, ignoring the silence. "How do you feel about Death? What is Death, exactly? Is it a being, capable of thought and design? Or is it simply one of the governing entities of the universe, like the seasons and time?"

The students shifted slightly, each glancing at their neighbors to see who would begin the discussion. Finally, a student of Helga Hufflepuff, named Fairfax Abbott, said, "I believe that Death is a natural part of life, Master Salazar. It is, essentially, the opposite of birth and life; the end of both – inevitable and, as you say, expected."

Salazar glanced coolly at Fairfax. "And how do you _feel_ about death, Mr. Abbott?"

Fairfax took a deep breath, but his face was pale beneath Salazar's sharp, cold gaze. Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, "As Death is a natural part of life, I will simply accept it. I may not like it, or be expecting it when it does happen. But it will happen, and when it does, I will handle it accordingly. What else can I do?"

"What, indeed?" Salazar murmured.

A Ravenclaw named Pearce Merewether spoke up. "Death will happen, yes. A natural part of life, as Abbott has explained. But this is just the definition of Death as mere humans understand it. Is there not more to Death than the end of Life? What happens when you die? Is that the end of everything? Do you simply revert to nothing, to be forgotten forever?"

Udela Chartes, who was also sitting at the Ravenclaw table, said, "An interesting concept, Pearce. When you die, you suddenly are no more. Existence vanishes, you become inert matter returned to the earth, and you become a nameless, forgotten human just as thousands before you have become nameless and forgotten."

Ignotus felt utterly sick. Forgotten and nameless – would that be what would happen to his father? Would the name of Corvus Peverell vanish forever? Was that the Fate that awaited all of them? To be forgotten?

Rowena Ravenclaw moved forward gracefully to face her students. "Nameless and forgotten, Udela? A sad thought, is it not? Is that what you would wish to happen to you?" she asked placidly.

Udela shrugged one shoulder without care. "No, Mistress. But it returns to Fairfax's concept that Death is a natural, inevitable part of life that we must accept. So if, one day, my Death erases my name from history, there will be nothing I could do about it then." A sarcastic smile twisted the girl's lips. "Once dead, you no longer exist."

"Or did you ever exist to begin with?" Druella Black, from the table of Slytherin's students, sneered. "Do any of us exist? Or are we pawns of the Universe?"

"Of course we exist," snapped Udela, scowling at her cousin. "If we didn't exist, then this discussion, this castle, the world itself, would be a void. There would be nothing."

Salazar cleared his throat and scowled at Druella. "This is not a discussion on existence, Miss Black. This is a discussion on Death." Turning back to the students of Ravenclaw, he said, "So, Miss Chartes, you believe that once dead, you cease to exist completely – that you become a forgotten and nameless pile of bones. I believe there are those here who would object to your suggestion."

Rosalind Willoughby, a student beneath Mistress Helga, looked particularly horrified and distraught at the thought the Ravenclaw students had presented. With Salazar's hint for a different opinion, she timidly said, " _I_ do not believe that we vanish completely upon the inevitable experience of Death. Perhaps we pass through a gateway, so to speak, into the Afterlife."

"And what is in the Afterlife?" Helga asked encouragingly, pacing calmly behind Salazar and Rowena.

"Heaven, of course." Rosalind swallowed. "I believe in Heaven."

Salazar dryly stated, "A Muggle concept."

Rosalind turned bright pink. She was indeed Muggle-born, and all those in Hogwarts who were from Muggle parentage, though they were few in number, knew that Master Salazar detested their presence. She diverted her eyes, and Ignotus was grateful that Godric quickly stepped in.

"No, Salazar. Heaven and Hell exist in the Wizarding world, too. The lines are gray of course; are humans ever to understand the intricate balance of good and evil? But I do believe as Rosalind does – that there is an Afterlife upon the experience of death. Something new, something uncharted."

Salazar inclined his head politely to Godric, but though he said no more, there was a dark look in his eyes. It was obvious he disliked Rosalind and her opinion.

"Perhaps Death is a person," suggested Torr de Mortfort, one of Salazar's students, with a snicker. "A being that travels the world seeking the next victims."

"And being Death," Ave Quincy, another of Salazar's students, said eagerly, "he can take on the appearance of a human to confuse humans when he comes. That is how he steals his victims!"

As the students continued to jest over the idea of Death as a personified being (some laughing and some more serious), Ignotus tried to block the discussion from his ears. He didn't want to talk about Death. Godric had been quite right – he wanted to leave the table and return to the Tower, but even that would be useless now, because he would have the thoughts already presented in the round-table discussion racing about his mind. He would never get to sleep. His best bet was to stay at the table and listen until the end, and hope the discussion would take a more cheerful turn. If that were possible, of course. He did not want to be called a coward by the other students if he left. Antioch and Cadmus had not moved, and they would surely be disappointed if he did.

Ten minutes later, Cadmus's voice broke through Ignotus's attempts to block the babble.

"Enough of discussing Death as a being, or the concepts of what comes after Death," he said coldly, glaring at the other students. "Death is a part of life, but does it have to be?"

Rowena's brow furrowed slightly. "Please explain yourself, Cadmus."

"Do we really have to die?" Cadmus argued. "Or, are there ways to defeat Death, to escape him? To become immortal, or even to steal back what he has already taken?"

Escape Death – that was exactly what Ignotus wanted to do, it seemed. He wasn't scared of dying himself, but he was terrified of losing anyone else now that his father was dead. He felt light-headed with sudden fear; was he really a coward? Only a coward would want to run from Death to escape it.

"Defeating or escaping Death," Salazar said to the students, inviting a change in the discussion. "Your opinions?"

The table of Salazar's students seemed particularly interested in the idea. Ignotus only barely heard parts of the discussion that began to follow Cadmus's suggestion, but it was Antioch's voice that broke through his thoughts next.

"If your wand is stronger than others, you could defeat Death in that respect," he said, always practical and logical.

Cadmus would have none of Antioch's logic, however. "That," he sneered, "will only keep you alive for so long, Antioch. At some point, you will die, whether you have an unstoppable wand or not."

Ignotus glanced up nervously to see Antioch's furious glare towards Cadmus. Before the eldest Peverell brother could retaliate, Maponus Avery said, "To truly defeat Death, you would have to become immortal, Cadmus."

"And to become immortal," Lycoris Malfoy's face twisted into a wicked smile, "you would need to create a Horcrux."

Instantly, the air seemed to crackle with tension. Helga froze in the act of her endless pacing behind Salazar. Rowena's expression became utterly blank, but her body stiffened. Godric's lip pulled back into a snarl as he bared his teeth unintentionally, and most of the students shifted uncomfortably.

Horcruxes were a topic not often discussed within the walls of Hogwarts.

Salazar alone seemed unaffected by the tautness of the air around him. "A Horcrux is indeed one way to conquer Death. But it is incredibly Dark magic, Mr. Malfoy."

"Death," Godric added dangerously, "would be preferable."

"That depends on the wizard, of course," Salazar replied. He did not turn to look at Godric.

"Only wizards who desire to sink to the extreme depths of darkness and evil create Horcruxes. They are truly horrendous objects, Salazar. Even you know this."

"But they would protect you from dying," Lycoris argued.

Godric's temper was apparently on edge, and this comment did nothing to help matters. He snarled, "Only if you protected the Horcrux with excruciating effort. A Horcrux is a liability, Mr. Malfoy, not an asset to gaining immortality. Upon splitting your soul via murder, and embedding part of your soul within the object of choice that thus becomes the Horcrux, the object is then vulnerable and, in turn, so is your soul."

Rowena's face remained blank, but she added, "Master Godric is right, Mr. Malfoy. The object is quite vulnerable, as it can be destroyed. And once a Horcrux is destroyed, so is that fragment of your soul. Thus, you become mortal once more. A Philosopher's Stone would be more appropriate, but even that is subject to theft and destruction."

Several students, who had clearly never read books pertaining to the darkest of magic, asked, "How? How do you destroy one?" It was as though they had not even heard Rowena's remark regarding a Philosopher's Stone.

Godric, Rowena, and Helga exchanged dark glances. Rowena had tried to change the subject without success, and there was nothing for it but to answer these new questions. She said slowly, and deliberately, "While it is extremely difficult to destroy a Horcrux, it _can_ be done. Traditional methods will not work. To destroy a Horcrux, you must damage the object and the fragment of soul beyond the means of magical repair."

Students shifted and glanced at each other as they tried to determine what would be considered "beyond magical repair". Ignotus racked his brain, but he could think of no spells that would destroy something so utterly evil. Godric forbade the study of such magic amongst his own students, and supposedly there were few spell books that would even mention a Horcrux in the school's vast library. The Founder of bravery and courage had tried to have those books removed the previous year, but Salazar had insisted they were a necessary part of the library as they contained information on other types of magic, and that they were mostly books on theory anyway.

Noticing that most of the students looked confused and lost, Salazar finally stated in a dry, disappointed voice, "Basilisk venom is one way to destroy a Horcrux."

Sarcastically, Godric snapped, "Ah, yes. You _can_ destroy extremely evil, Dark magic with the fang of an extremely dangerous, Dark creature. It works, of course, but the creation of the basilisk is in itself an incredibly deadly endeavor. After all, the ability to control such a creature is limited to those who speak Parseltongue, and there are few wizards and witches with that ability, as you well know, Salazar."

Salazar smiled, snakelike, at his friend. "True. Very true. But there are also other ways. A Horcrux can also be destroyed by the Killing Curse, Godric."

And as if as one, the students sucked in their breath. Like Horcruxes, Unforgivable Curses were also rarely discussed within Hogwarts.

Rowena scowled at Salazar and said, "Fiendfyre can also destroy a Horcrux. Though, that spell is as dangerous as the creation of a basilisk. It can so easily gain life of its own and the caster can quickly lose control if they do not have incredibly strong forbearance of mind."

Lycoris looked triumphant. "So," he said, "Though a Horcrux _can_ be destroyed, it would be incredibly difficult."

Godric's face twisted furiously, and Salazar, perhaps sensing the rising anger, quickly told his student, "But it is, as Master Godric states, still a liability. It _is_ capable of being destroyed and therefore not completely fail-proof in gaining mortality. Even Herpo found himself mortal after his Horcrux was destroyed by a Killing Curse, and he was then killed in a duel himself."

Cadmus looked highly annoyed; as though the discussion had taken a turn he had not wished. He spoke again, trying to bring the topic back to his ideas.

"Another way to conquer Death, Master Salazar, would be if you had the ability to raise the dead from their graves. To take back the victims Death claimed."

Salazar, irritated that Cadmus was so persistent, coolly said, "There is no spell to raise the dead, Mr. Peverell."

"That we know of. But powerful wizards can create new spells. If you used Reverse Spell Effects, sir –"

"Enough." Godric ended the discussion before Cadmus, who had had a manic glint in his eyes, could continue. "These then, as a group, we can agree on. Death is a natural part of life, as Mr. Abbott expressed at the beginning of the hour. Therefore, we should not desire to go against the grain of nature by trying to defeat or conquer a timeless entity. To go against the grain of the natural is to throw everything out of balance; a dangerous option which could go horribly wrong very quickly and with incredible ease."

Rowena and Helga nodded in agreement; Salazar said nothing.

Godric continued, bitterly, "Horcruxes are the Darkest of all magic, and should not be studied or spoken of by decent wizards and witches. However, each of you must decide for yourselves how you feel about such foul objects." He turned and glared at his comrade. "Salazar, do you have anything additional to add?" he demanded.

"I do not. I believe you have summed up our discussion admirably, Godric."

"In that case," Helga said promptly, "The next discussion will take place after you return from Yule."

Rowena added, "Mistress Helga will decide on the next topic. You are dismissed to your dormitories."

Benches scraped the floor as students rose to leave. Those who trained beneath Salazar Slytherin were still quite engrossed in discussing the idea of conquering Death by way of Horcrux, with Lycoris at the center of the throng. Antioch, however, was silent. He glared at the other members of Slytherin with anger, as though he disapproved of their ideas. Ignotus decided to avoid his brother and headed up the marble staircase quietly, following the other students of Gryffindor, who were furious at the fact that Lycoris Malfoy had deliberately tried to antagonize their teacher.

But Ignotus could think of nothing except hiding from Death, escaping it by becoming invisible to the entity and running away. And he felt like a coward for even thinking such things. Yet, he could not bear the thought of losing any one else he loved. He could face Death when it came for him, but he simply did not want to watch it steal other people away from him.


	4. Chapter 4

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## The Challenge

****

Godric was not himself for the next few days, and all of his students were perfectly aware of the reason. Their Founder despised any talk of the Dark Arts, because he didn't want students to be tempted to turn to evil.

Likewise, Ignotus did not feel himself yet, either. The round-table discussion regarding Death had been very difficult; the healing process of losing his father was only just beginning and the topic had not helped matters much. In fact, as far as Ignotus was concerned, all it had really done was drive Antioch and Cadmus further apart. The two older brothers were resolutely refusing to speak to each other because of Cadmus's remarks towards Antioch during the discussion, and Ignotus felt as though none of them were related to each other at the moment.

Of course, Cadmus wasn't speaking to Ignotus, either. It was true that Ignotus had never been as close to Cadmus as he had been to Antioch, but it was still unsettling that his brother wouldn't even speak to him as they passed in their daily routines. From what he understood, however, Cadmus wasn't speaking to hardly anyone – not even members of his own house.

Even Cearo had worriedly approached Ignotus before dinner one evening to inquire if he had spoken with Cadmus during the last few days. She admitted that his brother had not sought her out for nearly a week, and she was worried if she had done something wrong. Ignotus wasn't sure which was worse – Cadmus not speaking to him, or Cearo confiding in him about their personal business.

At least Antioch was speaking if Ignotus saw him, but even his eldest brother was still extremely preoccupied. In Cadmus's case, Ignotus had no idea what his brother was researching, but he did know that Antioch was still studying wandlore. Because, far from _discouraging_ Antioch, Cadmus's remarks regarding the foolishness of an unbeatable wand had only _fueled_ Antioch's desire to research the subject more thoroughly and design such an object.

Nearly three weeks passed in this tense fashion. Slowly, the Founders returned to their usual state of friendliness and the students fell back into their routines. The round-table discussion drifted from the minds of most within the castle, as did the idea of Horcruxes. Ignotus began to feel less angry and less distraught. The pain of his father's death was becoming a dull ache within his chest instead of all-consuming grief, and it flared only once as the month went on – when Antioch told him that, upon reading his letter, their mother had been overcome with grief and the faithful Peverell steward, a strong wizard named Bull Corey who had been their father's ally for decades, had been forced to give her a Calming Draught as well as a potion for a dreamless sleep so she could rest. But she had written a return letter as soon as she was able, thanking Antioch for returning alive and bringing Cadmus back alive as well. She expressed the hope of seeing all three of her sons at Yule, and begged them to return home at that time, so she could confirm for herself that they were all in good health.

" _Alive_." Antioch sneered, as he glared at his mother's return letter, which Ignotus had just handed back after reading it. "Cadmus is no more alive than father is, for he is wallowing in grief and disillusion. He believes he can stop Death by researching Reverse Spell Effects."

Wearily, Ignotus said, " _You_ are trying to create a superior wand, Antioch." He shifted the large library book he was holding to his other arm. It was on Defense, though he hadn't been very focused on his studies the last couple of weeks. They didn't seem to be holding his interest, for some reason. But, he wasn't sure what _would_ hold his interest at the moment, and he had therefore not bothered to study anything else.

"That isn't the same." Antioch raked a hand through his wavy black hair and looked highly irritated. "I want to _kill_ Athol. That is my purpose now. I simply need to avoid Death long enough to complete that task. Cadmus, though... I believe that Cadmus wishes to become immortal."

Startled, Ignotus stammered, "You surely do not believe he would create something like a Horcrux, do you?"

Antioch laughed humorlessly. "The dense buffoon wouldn't know _how_ to create a Horcrux, little brother."

"Neither would _I_ ," Ignotus said darkly.

"That is true, but..." Antioch continued to chuckle; for a brief moment, Ignotus felt as though the sound were warm water washing over both of them. "You are entirely different from Cadmus. _You_ would not create a Horcrux because you are honorable and noble – everything Master Godric seeks in his students. That does not mean you _couldn't_ make a Horcrux, if you set your mind to such a task." Antioch's expression hardened and the laughter vanished. "Cadmus will not do it because he does not want to defeat Death just for his own self, but rather, he wants to make alive those who have already died. I admit; the idea is vaguely interesting. But I don't believe that he is intelligent enough to pull it off."

"He _was_ selected by Mistress Ravenclaw."

"A mistake." Antioch's lip curled.

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably. Surely the Founders did not make mistakes in Sorting. He had hoped that the rift between his two brothers would have resolved by now, but apparently, it had not. As he did not wish to irritate Antioch, he changed the course of their conversation.

"How is your research progressing?" he asked, nodding to the tome Antioch was carrying.

"Better than expected. Wandlore is extremely complex, but Master Ollivander has been exceedingly helpful in explaining the details of this branch of magic. As of now, I am still gathering information, but I hope to begin creating the wand itself after Yule." He paused and glanced at the book Ignotus held. "Are you still studying Defense?"

"Yes. But I'm discovering that I already know most of what I'm reading, and I confess; it is quite tedious and dull. Right now, the only things helping my skill are our practical studies."

"Then it was lucky you were Sorted to Master Godric; he is the best teacher to practice dueling with. Though Master Salazar is also brilliant at dueling."

Ignotus did not respond. In truth, Salazar Slytherin unnerved him – his cool, detached demeanor was so unlike Godric's warm, invigorating personality, Helga's gentle sweetness, or Rowena's placid intelligence. Antioch might be highly devoted to and admiring of his Founder, but Ignotus did not understand the man well.

Antioch folded his mother's letter and slipped it into an inside pocket of his emerald cloak. "Perhaps, since you have already mastered the theories of Defense, you should consider studying a different subject in detail."

"Perhaps. But I am not sure what will interest me. However, I will let you know when I strike upon something."

"Good. Please keep me informed of your progress. I wish to see you succeed, Ignotus."

And without further elaboration, he turned and left, heading once more for the library.

Ignotus sighed. Despite Antioch's approval, and despite his suggestion to study something other than Defense, he had no idea what he should like to delve into next. Certainly not Potions – that was an art which both of his brothers excelled at, but he disliked. He had mastered Transfiguration by his fifth year and Charms in his fourth. He had never studied Divination, and by his second year he had completed the requirements for Astronomy and Ancient History.

He glanced at the book he was holding; a thick volume in peeling red leather titled _Defensive Magicke for Battle and Anti-Curses Against Evile_. He already knew it backwards and forwards, thanks to Godric's lessons. It was practically useless to continue pursuing this book He decided he would return it to the library later in the day, however – so that Antioch would not believe he was following him.

**oOo**

When Ignotus arrived at dinner that evening, something was in the air. For starters, the Founders were speaking intently at their own table, deep in discussion. This was unusual; the four masters and mistresses of the school discussed future lessons within the privacy of their quarters, and not before the student body in the Great Hall.

As Ignotus sat down and continued to look curiously at the head table, Ross leaned over and whispered, "Something is afoot. The Founders have been meeting all afternoon. Mistress Helga let it slip to her students that shall have a surprise tonight."

"It must be important," Perseus said, a gleam in his eyes.

The others nodded in agreement. Ignotus wondered what the surprise could be, but to everyone's disappointment, dinner came first. All across the hall, students were eating much faster than usual, and instead of the loud talk there were quiet hissing whispers back and forth. Apparently, Mistress Helga's students had passed the information they had gleaned onto all of the other houses, and everyone was debating what was going to happen.

Finally, once everyone had finished, Mistress Rowena rose gracefully from her seat and smiled at the Great Hall. The whispering ceased immediately.

With a small, bemused smile and a quick glance at Mistress Helga, she said, "I see you are all expecting this. Very well, to the point. We have decided to put forth a challenge amongst the students this year. You will all have regular lessons and studies as usual, but our challenge is for each of you to delve into a topic of academics that you are not familiar with, and one that each individual person wishes to delve deeper into. You may choose to research a topic individually, or with a small group, in your spare time."

Master Salazar stood from his seat and said, "Each of you may select from any magical topic you desire, and preferably something that interests you. However, you must each present the extra-curricular topic of choice to your Founder, who will decide if it is appropriate for your age and level of understanding. If both student and Founder agree, you will be asked to research and present the topic at the end of the year before all four Founders."

"This means," Master Godric continued, "that you may be asked to write an essay, prepare a demonstration, create an object, or perform spells. Everyone will present their project at the end of the school term before the rest of the student body and us. You will have ample time to work on your projects, and we are here to assist you should you have any difficulties."

"Precisely one week from today," Mistress Helga beamed, "we will meet with each of you to learn which topic you have decided upon. If you wish to work in a group, groups should be no larger than three students. If you wish to work alone, that is also permissible and understandable. We wish to credit the idea to Antioch Peverell – his desire to study wandlore has piqued our interest. Though he excels at many things, just as each of you excels at many things, this is a subject that has interested him for further, focused study. Therefore, begin to consider a topic you wish to learn more of. Be prepared to meet with your Founder a week from today."

There was a burst of excited applause; many students in the hall seemed thrilled at the chance to explore uncharted fields of magic. Across the room, Antioch looked slightly taken aback that his drive to learn wandlore had sparked such a wave of interest. The students of Salazar Slytherin were shaking his shoulders and laughing with excitement at his genius, but he didn't seem to care for their congratulations.

Ignotus could tell that his own friends were eager and ready to begin their projects immediately, even though they weren't finished with dessert yet. Perseus was already going on about studying unusual Defense spells. Elva claimed that such an idea was silly, for Godric would teach them those any way, and declared that she was more interested in studying about the strange magical creatures that dwelled in Asia Minor. Ansen was trying to talk Rowe and Hesperia into the possibility of joining him in studying Patronuses, while Gaderian insisted they should all go to the library that very evening and do exhaustive research before ultimately deciding which topics would be most beneficial.

As the talk continued, Ross turned and smiled at Ignotus. "It sounds as though it will be immense fun. Do you not think so?"

Ignotus shrugged hopelessly. "For others, perhaps. But I've no idea what I wish to study, other than the subjects I'm already engaged in."

His friend snorted. "It will do you good to study other things. You know Defense too well. It's high time you try something different."

"And what will _you_ research?" Ignotus asked sardonically.

Ross laughed. "Easy, Ignotus. You needn't get surly with me, you know. I was only trying to give you some friendly advice!" He paused for a brief moment, and then said thoughtfully, "I believe I shall go to the library, as Gaderian suggests. Not to do the sort of relentless research he intends to do," he rolled his eyes, "but more than the others will. There are many areas of magic I am not familiar with." And at this, he looked highly frustrated.

Ignotus's temper subsided at the change in his friend's expression, and he said quietly, "That is expected. You did not have the upbringing many of us had, after all."

Ross shook his head in disgust. "No. I did not. Which is a hindrance, Ignotus. If only you knew how I _wished_ I had lived a childhood like yours."

"Your childhood was incredibly interesting. Do not think otherwise."

"Being the son of a Muggle is not interesting; it is _degrading_. I wonder that my father didn't drown me in the river when he discovered I was... _different_."

Ignotus sighed. He knew Ross had been born a Muggle – everyone did. His best friend was one of the very few Muggle-borns in the school. Godric had located Ross when Ross was five years old. Godric Gryffindor had seen the young wizard in a field, levitating a stick, and he had stopped to investigate. Ross's parents had been more than willing to let Godric take him, claiming they had never understood their second son. It was also common knowledge to his closest friends that Ross had absolutely no desire to return to his village or his family, nor had he done so since Godric had taken him. Godric had been able to find a respectable wizarding family who did not oppose Ross's blood ties, and they had adopted Ross and raised him as their own.

But the biggest problem was that most purebloods _did_ oppose Muggle-borns – those adopted into the wizarding community, and especially Muggle-borns admitted into Hogwarts. Some did not, of course. Ignotus, for one, could have cared less about the whole issue, and the Couldfield family did not, or they wouldn't have taken Ross in as a surrogate son. But Cadmus disapproved of Muggle-borns completely and had often chastised Ignotus's choice in closest friend, and Antioch also generally frowned upon Muggle-borns, though he was more understanding than the middle Peverell brother.

Ross was fully aware of the animosity he was expected to receive, from many people within Hogwarts and even more beyond its walls, for there was no overcoming his background.

Due to his friend's bitterness and feelings regarding the subject of his birth, Ignotus knew better than to argue. Instead, he murmured, "Perhaps I will accompany you to the library."

"Tomorrow morning, then? After first lesson?"

Ignotus stood up and fastened his cloak over his shoulders. "I only hope I can find something I would enjoy studying," he admitted.

As they left the hall and started up the marble staircase, Ross mused, "Perhaps I should research magical creatures or magical history. Both are topics I could..."

But Ignotus was no longer paying his friend much attention, because he wasn't interested in such areas of study. Having grown up within the walls of the powerful Peverell fortress, he knew more about magic than even most pureblood children did before attending Hogwarts.

_But not everything_ , a small voice chided him from the back of his mind, while Ross continued in his one-sided debate over various ideas. _You were oblivious to Death. And that is a specific magic in its own right._

Suddenly angry, Ignotus tried to ignore the thought. He had been doing well the past few weeks, moving forward rather than wallowing in pity and pain. He did not want to continue to be poisoned by such depressing ideas.

Ross gave the password to Nerthus, hardly aware that Ignotus had not spoken two words since they had started up the marble staircase. But when they entered the common room, they found that someone had left the Great Hall before they had.

Callisto Stewart was sitting at her loom, her brow puckered in thought as she directed the shuttle back and forth. She had put a Silencing Charm on the entire apparatus, to prevent it from making excessive noise and distracting the other Gryffindor students while they were all in the common room. She had been weaving since she first came to school. According to the other girls, Callisto had told them only one gem of information regarding her past: her mother had been an accomplished witch who had woven magical battle garments for wizards, to protect them from adverse spells. Callisto had been studying the same art since before she came to Hogwarts, albeit on her own. Apparently, Helga Hufflepuff had given her some direction once she entered official study, but the kind-hearted Founder had also explained that she had not practiced such an art herself, and that Callisto would remain on her own for the most part.

Still, even without actual tutelage, Callisto's work was excellent. Ignotus had no idea if the cloaks and tunics she wove were able to protect their wearers, but the pieces she had completed over the years were beautiful. Still, he had no idea what she had done with them after completion. The girls stated they had never seen the completed garments in their dormitories, so they believed Callisto must have given the clothing away.

Ross and Ignotus stopped beside her, and she finally glanced up, though she seemed surprised to see them, as though she had not heard them enter the common room.

"Did you attend dinner, Miss Stewart?" Ross asked politely.

Callisto smiled, though it seemed sad. "I did. Thank you, Ross."

Trying to sound as though he were merely interested in the conversation and not thrilled that her voice was sending chills down his spine, Ignotus asked, "And have you decided on a topic of study for the challenge?"

She turned to gaze at the pattern of dark red and black in the fabric she was creating, before she said slowly, "I think I should like to study healing spells, but I have not completely decided, yet."

"But you are incredible at Defense!" Ignotus blurted out, before thinking.

"As are you, Ignotus. But Defense will not always serve. It is important to know other magical arts, as well." She leaned forward and shifted several threads about, and then asked curiously, "What of you? What will you research? Are the two of you going to work together?"

"No," Ross said. "I believe I will research magical history. There is much I do not know, and much I _should_ know."

"You are too hard on yourself," Callisto said quietly. "There _are_ those of us who do _not_ despise you for where you came from, you know."

"But there are many more who do."

Afraid that Ross might lose his temper, Ignotus said, "And I have no idea what I will study, yet."

Callisto tilted her head and smiled at him shrewdly. "Not Defense, then?"

"No. Like you, I need to learn something different."

And suddenly, without warning, the portrait hole burst open and the other students of Godric Gryffindor spilled into the common room, all laughing and excitedly discussing the challenge and the wide array of topics they could study. For a brief second, Ignotus wished that he, Callisto, and his best friend could have been invisible when this happened. Their conversation had been interesting and cozy, and he wished they had not been interrupted. Most unfortunately, the other students noticed them from the moment they came into the room, and they began to include them in the boisterous discussion.

"I wish to study about unusual Charms!"

"How about the movements of the heavens, and how they affect our daily lives?"

"I'm still going to research multiple topics in the library before I make a final decision."

"I've always wanted to learn about dragons! I wish I could have one. Is it true that Vespera Black has an Icelandic Indigo, Cantrella?"

"Of course it's true, everyone knows _that_." Cantrella rolled her eyes as she moved through the room and sat down beside Callisto at the loom. She seemed the least interested in the challenge. "She has had him since he hatched from an egg."

"The more I've thought on the challenge, the more I believe I should like to study Muggles," Perseus announced importantly. "We know very little about them, and I would like to learn more. How are we to understand them if we do not try? Ross, will you assist me?"

The babble was still going on throughout the room, and so no one except Ignotus, Castillo, and Cantrella noticed how Ross tensed at Perseus's request. He managed to nod once, and said, "If you desire my assistance, I shall give it."

"That would be most beneficial. Elva and Ansen are going to give me some insight into the subject, as well."

Perseus turned to find Elva, and Ross muttered, "Gods help me. I'm going to bed. I will see you both tomorrow."

Castillo sighed, nodded, and turned back to her work, though she did not seem to be paying it much attention. Cantrella watched the loom for a bit, but like Callisto, she seemed to be thinking of something else.

A new voice interrupted, and forced Ignotus to look away from Callisto and Cantrella.

"Have you decided what you will study?" Gaderian Longbottom asked.

"I do not know yet," Ignotus admitted.

"Then perhaps you should accompany me to the library tomorrow morning."

Feeling that this was probably the best option, though he wasn't sure he could deal with hours of Gaderian's debating one topic versus another, Ignotus nodded wearily. "I will. Thank you."

**oOo**

The library was dark and cold, and it did not help that the day was icy outside. Had it been sunny, a small amount of light would have at least been able to penetrate the mullioned windows. Ignotus drew his cloak about his body tightly, wondering why he had agreed to come with Gaderian in the first place. Ross had also agreed to go along, which was some relief, but the moment they entered the vast, quiet library, Ignotus's best mate had effectively disappeared through the endless shelves in search of history books.

Either that, or he was trying to escape Gaderian – because Gaderian was, just as Ignotus had predicted, debating everything from dangerous magical creatures to quirky charms, all under his breath, and sending book after book to a table he had staked claim on the moment he had entered the library. Ignotus followed behind his friend, disinterested in most of the titles he bothered to read. He vaguely wondered how many books Gaderian had selected thus far, and if the table would be buried under a mound of leather volumes when they finally returned to it.

Deciding he needed to at least put some effort into the task his Founders had set, Ignotus managed to rouse himself to examine the spines of the books more closely. Unfortunately, they were in a section on Divination – a subject he cared absolutely nothing for.

Gaderian, on the other hand, had pulled one of these dusty books from its resting place, and was muttering quietly to himself, wondering if one could indeed determine the future by strange signs and symbols.

Ignotus rolled his eyes, skirted behind him, and realized there was an opening halfway down the aisle they were in. Determined to escape the fortune telling books, he slipped through the opening in the shelves and found himself on another long, dark aisle.

" _Lumos_ ," he muttered.

The end of his wand sparkled brilliantly and he held it up to the titles, tired of squinting. But even so, these told him nothing – most of the titles on this shelf were in Old Greek, and he couldn't read a word of it. Annoyed, Ignotus made his way down the aisle until he came to another junction, and he immediately ducked further into the recesses of the huge library. He bypassed the next four aisles completely, before slipping into a small alcove of books, half-hidden in the maze of twisted, narrow spaces.

Ignotus held his wand up to the titles in the alcove, wondering what could possibly be in such a small, hidden space that was likely completely unknown to most students. To his surprise, most of the titles here seemed to be on the topic of Invisibility, but some did not. Curious, he pulled one of them down. _The Art of Stealthe_ , for instance, did not seem to be about Invisibility in the least, and he wondered if such a book could assist him in his studies of Defense. Surely this was a book about battle techniques. Ignotus flipped it open, but to his surprise, there were no words on the blank pages.

Frustrated, he jabbed his wand at the book and mentally cast the spell for revealing hidden words. And instantly, the book glowed a soft red that faded back into the darkness, and the spell brought the ink to the surface. Curious, he scanned through several of the pages with his wand held over them, eager for the book to tell him something about defeating opponents. But to his surprise, the words he read first had an ill effect on him.

" _...by the hidden art of Invisibility, to render one's self undetectable by sight, thus enabling a surprise attack upon thy opponent..._ "

Ignotus stiffened. That was not an honorable attack. He glanced at the next page, but the words were not much better.

" _...become visible at the last moment by the counter-spell. This element of surprise gives the upper hand to the one who has been previously Invisible..._ "

He slammed the book shut and had stuffed it unceremoniously back on the shelf. He would not stoop to such tactics. He was a student of Godric Gryffindor!

But just as he turned to leave the strange cove, a sudden thought occurred to him.

During their last duel against Godric, his Founder had clearly stated that some wizards and witches did not use honorable attacks or strategy, and that even if one's intentions were noble, one sometimes had to reconfigure their battle plan to fight effectively. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. Perhaps this book _would_ be of use. Some wizards would do anything to win a battle – Athol had proved that by claiming a superior wand, and Antioch was counteracting by creating a better one. The idea of becoming Invisible in a battle, free to move about without detection, was an interesting thought, really. Besides, he had never ventured this far into the library before, and he had never known this little alcove existed at all. It was worth a second look, perhaps.

And before he quite realized it, Ignotus was scanning the other titles and pulling more books down. He sat in the alcove for a long time; glancing through the tomes and selecting those he felt were worth reviewing further. _This_ was something he could apply to his exhaustive Defense lessons – just as Callisto had decided to focus on Healing Spells. True, becoming Invisible was sneaky and cunning…but it was not evil like Horcruxes or Unforgiveable Curses, surely.

It was Ross who discovered him nearly two hours later, when he came around the corner with his wand lit, and stared at Ignotus in surprise. He had clearly not been expecting to find his friend thus: cross-legged on the floor amidst a pile of books, examining one with the title, _Hidden from Sighte_.

"What are you _doing_?"

Ignotus looked up, startled to see his best friend's wary expression. He smiled. "I stumbled across this section earlier, and I think I shall research the subject of Invisibility for my challenge. There's some interesting information here that I know little about. It's quite intriguing."

"Are you out of your senses? What use is Invisibility? You can't possibly use such tactics in battle – that would be dishonorable, and you know it, Ignotus."

"Would it?" Ignotus rose, waved his wands at the books he wanted, and sent them into a neat pile. The others he sent back to the shelves around him. "Strategy is a critical part of Defense. I think this will be useful."

"It doesn't sound useful, it sounds manipulative and sneaky. We can all become invisible. Everyone knows how to perform a Disillusionment Charm – even _Muggle-borns_."

Ignotus levitated the books he wished to keep and they started back to the front of the library, weaving their way through the labyrinth of aisle and shelves. "A Disillusionment Charm is easy enough, but there are flaws to the spell. I wonder if there is a way to become _completely_ and _utterly_ undetectable? I'll have to research it further. That's why I've selected Invisibility as my topic of study."

"You would be wise to study something more beneficial, such as Transfiguration!"

"I heard Ranulf of Ravenclaw is studying Animagi; what would be the point of studying anything else? I can already perform high-level human Transfiguration, and I see little sense in becoming an animal in a fight. Animals are subject to death just as humans are. In fact, I would imagine that you would lose some of your powers by transforming into an animal, unless you became something like a wasp or an ant and could avoid detection more so than a larger animal would –"

"You keep talking as though you will be in a fight tomorrow!" Ross cut Ignotus off, looking highly irritated. "You likely will not be involved in a fight until well after you leave Hogwarts, if even then!"

"We live in a time of constant warfare, as you well know. Wizards versus wizards, fighting over everything from land rights to Muggle detection. I wish to be prepared. Eventually, I may have to fight in the Clan Wars, like my brothers."

They stopped at the table Gaderian was seated at. Ross glared at his best friend, but Ignotus merely smiled back, his expression sheepish. Gaderian glanced up between the stacks of books tottering about him, and frowned.

"Have you found something interesting, Ignotus?"

"Invisibility."

"You wish to study Invisibility?" Gaderian asked, curious.

"Yes, I believe so."

"I think that is an unusual choice, but very interesting. I am still researching."

Ross interrupted sourly. "I think it's a ludicrous choice. He can already perform a Disillusionment Charm – what more is there?"

"There is a wealth of information here," Ignotus insisted. "I think I will be surprised to learn how much there is."

"So will you write a report?"

"I do not know yet. I shall ask Master Godric his opinion."

Ross shook his head. "Come on, then. I've already sent my books back to the common room so I wouldn't have to carry them."

They left Gaderian pawing through his hundreds of topics, and headed back through the corridors of the castle to their tower. But Ross did not seem intent on talking, and he continued to scowl at Ignotus's floating pile of Invisibility books, as though they had insulted him in some way.

However, as they rounded a corner to a staircase, they passed Antioch, who was walking with Serpentina Slytherin. She stiffened as Ross and Ignotus inclined their heads towards her, and Ross murmured that he would see Ignotus shortly, before he hurried on, clearly intent on avoiding Salazar's daughter. She was one who very much opposed his being in the castle at all, and her opinions of "filthy Mudbloods" were no secret to anyone within Hogwarts Castle.

Antioch did not pay Ross's retreat much attention, but instead glanced at the titles of his brother's books. He mused, "Invisibility? An unusual topic, Ignotus. How did you light upon it?"

"By mere accident. I stumbled upon a hidden alcove I've never seen before in the library, full of books on the subject. But I think it will be useful for Defense."

"I have never much thought about it," Antioch admitted thoughtfully.

"Neither have I."

Serpentina's lips twisted into a thin smile, and she said cunningly, "And why would you wish to become invisible, Ignotus? Answer honestly."

He was surprised by this question, but he replied, "Sometimes I just wish I could be invisible. Alone. Without anyone to bother me if I did not desire company."

"Ah. And for what purpose?"

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably. Just as he had never been close to Cearo, Antioch's lover was also difficult to be around. Serpentina had her father's sly personality and could manipulate anyone to her will. She was reported to be one of the most powerful witches in the country. He could never tell what she was thinking – no one could. Cearo, at least, was usually incredibly easy to read. But Serpentina reminded Ignotus of staring into the jeweled eyes of a poisonous snake...a blank void that could strike at any second and without warning. He was certain that _she_ was the exact type of person who would use any means in battle to destroy an opponent.

Not wishing to give her anything to work with, he countered, "Do _you_ not sometimes wish to be alone?"

Immediately, her smile grew slightly warmer. "Forgive me, Ignotus. I was simply curious as to your motives for studying such an unusual subject. I thought perhaps you were attempting to hide from something."

"I hide from nothing," he said sharply, his chin lifting a fraction in his attempt to stand taller.

"And yet, you are studying Invisibility."

"Very well! As a battle technique."

"A battle technique?" Her eyes sparkled with sudden amusement and she smiled wider. "You would actually consider becoming invisible in battle? That _would_ be a calculating move. You could destroy whomever you wished without ever being detected. I assume you are going to study something beyond the feeble Disillusionment Charm. Perhaps you should have been Sorted into my father's house, Ignotus!"

Ignotus stiffened, and Antioch chuckled. "I'm sure Ignotus would not do anything so base as to become invisible in a fight and attack his opponents in such a manner. He is too noble to use tactics like that."

Darkly, Ignotus said, "And yet, Master Godric reminds us that not all wizards and witches are as noble as those within his house. We must be prepared to make exceptions to our dueling techniques, depending on our opponent."

"Master Godric is wise," Serpentina assented. "And he is also quite correct. You must be ready for _anything_ in a battle."

Antioch frowned and changed the subject slightly. "And Ignotus, if you find out what Cadmus is studying, let me know. I have not seen him today."

"He likely will not speak to me even if I see him. He has been distant lately. But if I hear anything, I will let you know." Ignotus inclined his head again, and his brother and Serpentina continued down the corridor, out of sight.

Ignotus wondered, briefly, what Cadmus had selected for his project. But if Antioch did not know, then it was likely that Cadmus had told no one – and even more likely that he would not tell Ignotus.


	5. Chapter 5

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## Ignotus's Decision

****

The end of the week arrived much faster than Ignotus expected – and, just as promised, Godric appeared in the common room exactly seven days from the night the Founders had told the school of the forthcoming challenge. Most of the students of Gryffindor clapped and whistled when he ducked through the portrait hole, and at the sight of all of them, Godric laughed good-naturedly and waved for quiet. This took several seconds, but finally, everyone settled down to pay attention.

The entire common room must have been a comical sight, Ignotus thought, as he glanced around at everyone. He was sitting out of the way on a windowsill, reading one of the books he had taken from the Invisibility section of the library, but the rest of his mates were kneeling on chairs, or leaning over the backs of them to gaze avidly at Godric, or else were standing on tables to get his attention. In fact, the only others who seemed unconcerned with the proceedings were Callisto, who was watching the shuttle fly on her silent loom; Ross, who was bent over a large tome of ancient wizarding history; and Cantrella, who was sitting on the floor near Callisto, reading a book as well.

Once silence had been achieved, Godric grinned and said, "I am glad to see you are all excited about the opportunity to study a topic you wish to delve further into! I will now ask you, one by one, to tell me what your topic will be, so that I may record it and approve it." He waved his wand, and a piece of parchment and a quill appeared in midair beside him, poised to take notes. "So, let us begin! Mr. Smyth! You first!"

Ansen was standing on one of the sturdy tables, trying to look taller. Ignotus had a feeling this was because the lad was only thirteen, and rather skinny. He said loudly, "Master Godric, with your permission, I would like to study the Patronus Charm along with Rowe and Hesperia!"

Rowe and Hesperia stood up as well – Rowe on a chair where he could tower alongside Ansen, and Hesperia demurely beside the table.

"An excellent choice!" Godric beamed. "I will caution you, however. The Patronus Charm is extremely complex. I have no doubt that you will be able to perform it with dedicated practice, but accomplishing the spell may take some time, so do not get discouraged if you cannot perform it immediately. Or even within a few weeks. Even Mr. Cutteridge and Miss Taillebois will have some trouble with it, though perhaps not as much as you will, as they are older and have more experience. I encourage the three of you to research the spell thoroughly, and practice against each other extensively. If you need my help, I will gladly give it. Perhaps we can even arrange a joint session so I can see where you all stand in a month. You will be prepared to demonstrate the charm in the spring before the Founders. Next! Mr. Longbottom!"

Gaderian was sitting in one of the velvet-covered chairs, appearing cool, casual, and utterly relaxed. His research must have paid off, Ignotus thought; otherwise he would not look so smug and confident.

But what he announced caught everyone off guard.

"I will study the Unforgivable Curses, Master Godric. I wish to learn more about them."

There was a general, sharp intake of breath. The Unforgivable Curses were as tense a topic as Horcruxes, and after the previous round table discussion, there was no telling what Godric would say to this request. Everyone glanced nervously at their Founder to see his reaction.

There was a long pause, but Godric's face did not betray expression. After a moment, he asked, in a perfectly even voice, "For what purpose, Gaderian?"

"You have advised us that others – those who have not studied beneath your noble self – will use dishonorable attacks against us in battle. I wish to learn more about these three curses, as to be as prepared as possible should I encounter one."

To the students' surprise, Godric seemed satisfied enough with this answer. Gaderian's age likely was the key to his approval. Ignotus was certain Godric would never have given any student under the age of sixteen, permission to study Unforgiveable Curses.

Godric nodded gravely and said, "In that case, you have selected an excellent topic. But I must have some time to consider what your presentation will be in the spring. Performing one of these curses before the Founders and other students could be extremely dangerous. I shall speak with you at a later date to discuss the matter further with you. In the meantime, proceed with your research and take notes on your findings."

Then he turned and smiled at Cantrella. "Next, Miss Dreux! What shall you study?"

Cantrella, still sitting on the floor with her book, looked up and smiled like a viper. Quietly, she said, "Poisons, Master Godric. I wish to learn how to detect the lesser-known poisons and their antidotes. Master Salazar has been introducing us to the most common poisons in our Advanced Potions lectures, but there are many in the world that are obscure and much more dangerous than what we are currently studying. And as Gaderian says – our enemies, whomever they are, will not use honorable attacks. Poisons surely fall beneath such evil tactics."

"You are quite right, and it is another excellent choice of study. Be prepared for some hard research, however. I have no doubts that you will apply yourself to the fullest, for Salazar has mentioned to me numerous times of your abilities in the subtle art of Potions. He has been quite impressed with your work thus far in the field. I will speak to him to see if he will allow you use of one of the dungeons in your spare time for this endeavor. I'm sure he will not object, and he can point you in the direction of certain books to use as well. And in the spring," he mused, "I think we shall have a most... _unusual_ poison prepared for you to identify, and you shall create the antidote before us."

Cantrella nodded, and returned to her book, as though such a task would be nothing for her to overcome.

Godric turned to the next student. "Mr. Weasley! What do you intend to research?"

Perseus proudly announced, "I intend to study Muggles, Master Godric. Ross, Ansen, and Elva have agreed to provide me with personal information, but I would also like to go into a Muggle village to observe the sights for myself. With your permission, I should like to write an essay regarding my findings on the differences between wizards and Muggles."

Godric's mouth twitched in amusement. "Very well. However, I will arrange for _both_ of us to go to a Muggle village. You will not go alone. Too much could happen and you cannot run such a risk. We must be exceedingly careful. Muggles are very suspicious of unusual personages. They fear that which they do not understand. And, as you will be hard pressed to find any books about them in the library, I also suggest you speak to some of Helga's students, as well. She has several Muggle-born witches and wizards studying beneath her, and I'm sure they will be glad to assist you. So! Next! Mr. Faintree!"

Ross glanced up from the book he had open before him, and said quietly, "I would like to study magical history and write an essay, sir."

While some in the room barely managed to conceal their groans at so _boring_ a topic, Godric remained light and encouraging. "As you wish. Do not forget to study the history of other areas, such as Asia Minor and Africa, as they also have a wealth of information. I expect to see exhaustive research, because your topic will be just that. Please come to me with any questions, then. Next – Miss Port?"

Elva was also standing on a table, though she still looked quite small. With a spunky grin, she said, "I will study unusual magical creatures from other countries and write an essay as well, Master Godric!"

"Approved. Try to get a good selection, Miss Port. There are many magical creatures throughout the world, so I would like you to focus primarily on those that are most unusual and rare. Only mention the common creatures in passing. The challenge is for you to gain knowledge over that you already possess, after all – and you already have knowledge in common magical creatures in this region."

Elva nodded to show that she understood, and Godric turned to Edsel. "Miss Winbow, what shall you study?"

Edsel was leaning over the back of a large chair, her eyes large and hopeful. "May I study odd charms, sir? I want to find out what sort of _weird stuff_ we can do that has no important purpose whatsoever, Master Godric!"

At this, Godric laughed outright, and loudly. After a moment, he managed to sputter, " _Circe_ , but you do amuse me, Miss Winbow! Most excellent! Yes, yes – let us not forget that magic goes so far beyond that which we always consider! There are many spells and charms that few remember, simply because they are completely out of the ordinary, or perhaps serve a purpose which we do not believe useful! I cannot wait to see what you will perform for us in the spring! I would like you to perform several of these spells, I believe. I will discuss them with you later, after you have finished your research."

Still chuckling, he turned to Ignotus, and said brightly, "And Mr. Peverell, what of you?"

Ignotus shifted and closed the book he was reading. "Invisibility, Master Godric. And its uses in conjunction with Defense."

"Invisibility?" Godric smiled, though Ignotus could not read the expression. It seemed cheerful, but at the same time, there seemed to be some other emotion lurking behind it. Amusement, perhaps? Disappointment?

But before Ignotus could dwell on the expression, his master continued, "It is a tight subject, with little room for expansion, but I believe that you will find some interesting bits of information within the narrow realm. Do not be afraid to delve and test what you find. It is a branch of magic rarely examined beyond the Disillusionment Charm. And finally, Miss Stewart? What shall you study?"

Castillo answered, "I will study healing spells, sir."

Again, Godric paused, and Ignotus thought he saw something else behind his Founder's expression than the usual, cheerful smile. But it was so fleeting that Ignotus wondered if he had merely just imagined it. Godric merely replied, "Another excellent choice. In conjunction, as in Ignotus's case, with Defense?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir."

"Approved, then. Many wizards forget that, if you are involved in a battle, that you must also be prepared to heal yourself – and others – of injury. It is not always glory that awaits you in battle, most unfortunately. Well, enough!" He clapped his hands, and the quill and parchment vanished. "All of you have selected some marvelous topics; I cannot wait to see what you will present to us in the spring! I suggest you spend the rest of first term researching, and begin practicing spells or writing your essays after Yule. I will speak to each of you individually about your projects regularly throughout the next few months to inquire of your progress and any challenges you may encounter. Also, do not let your current studies be affected. This is merely an extra study. If you face any difficulties in your selected topic, please find me. That said; I should see you all tomorrow for your Transfiguration lesson, and I expect everyone over the age of sixteen to be able to transform his or herself into a cauldron. Everyone younger than sixteen should be prepared to transform turtles into soup bowls. Good night!"

With that, Godric turned and exited through the portrait. Immediately, excited chatter broke out amongst the students as they began discussing the topics they had selected and what they would do first, the moment they were able to escape to the library and begin their research.

But Ignotus did not join in the discussions; he merely returned to his book. Invisibility was proving more interesting than he had imagined, despite Godric's suggestion that the subject was narrow. Actually, it seemed there was a lot of complicated, advanced spell work required to make one's self completely invisible. The Disillusionment Charm was only the tip of the iceberg. Ross was still miffed at his decision to study a subject he felt was worthless, but Ignotus was compelled by the fascination of something so obscure.

**oOo**

The next morning, when he entered the Great Hall, he discovered what Cadmus had decided to research. And apparently, no one was happy about it – least of all, Antioch.

The eldest of the three brothers stopped Ignotus just as he entered the hall, and Antioch's scowl made him look so exceedingly fierce and unapproachable that the youngest warily backed up a step.

Without preamble, Antioch said acidly, "Our _brother_ intends to study Reverse Spell Effects for his challenge, to see if they can possibly reclaim the dead. And he intends on creating an object that will do _just that_! Mistress Rowena told him it was a foolish venture and utterly pointless, but he is not listening to her!"

Ignotus sighed at Antioch's fury, and said quietly, "He mentioned reclaiming the dead in the last round table discussion. You seem surprised by his decision."

"Yes, but..." Antioch ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. "I did not believe that he was actually _insane_ enough to _act_ upon the thought! Clearly, I miscalculated."

"You're making a superior wand, and Master Salazar claims that is impossible, too."

"Wands are important objects in our world; without them, we are nothing! On the other hand, one _cannot_ bring back the dead. It is a ridiculous venture with no hope of success!"

There was no getting through to Antioch; that much was certain. Ignotus sighed again. "Well, best let him be. There is nothing we can say that will deter him, and you know it."

Angrily, Antioch muttered, "Yes, you are correct about _that_. But I do not wish him to bring harm on others."

Ignotus followed Antioch's gaze across the Great Hall to where Cearo was sitting with the rest of Mistress Helga's students. Her long blonde hair, which was so often neatly braided, hung limp and straggling down her back, tied only with a ribbon. Her cheeks also seemed puffy and her eyes were red; she was staring at Cadmus, who was sitting apart from the other students of Ravenclaw, making notes on a parchment and not bothering to heed anyone.

After a long pause, Antioch said, "Let me know what you find out about invisibility spells. It should be a most intriguing subject. I doubt that even I know all you will eventually discover."

And with that, he turned and left the Great Hall.

Ignotus glanced towards the table of Salazar's students, desperate to take his eyes off of Cearo and Cadmus. But to his shock, he discovered that Cearo wasn't the only disgruntled female in the hall. Serpentina Slytherin was frowning severely at Antioch's retreating back. Apparently, his eldest brother had been ignoring his lover lately, as well.

Ignotus quickly diverted his eyes and went to his own table. He would not be the one to remind Antioch that he, too, was hurting someone who cared about him, all because of his obsession with wandlore. But these thoughts still nagged at the back of his mind for the rest of the day, and he found it difficult to focus on his lessons because he was thinking so much of his two brothers and their obsessions.

**oOo**

Apparently his lack of attention became noticeable, because by the end of the week, Godric tracked him down in the main courtyard during a free period. Ignotus had been sitting on one of the stone benches, oblivious to the seeping cold simply because the courtyard was vacant and he knew he would be undisturbed there. He was reading a heavy, moldy book of obscure spells created by the Egyptians, focusing solely on a chapter regarding invisibility, when suddenly the pages ruffled sharply, as though in a high wind.

Furious, he drew his wand, ready to verbally attack at whoever had dared to interrupt his solitude (and possibly throw a well-aimed Jelly Legs Jinx).

But instead of one of his friends or brothers, he discovered his _Founder_ frowning at him. The annoyance changed to panic, and Ignotus quickly slammed his book shut, thrust his wand back into his cloak, and stammered an apology for his reaction.

"Master Godric! I did not see you, sir. I am sorry –"

"No, no. You were deep in thought."

And before Ignotus could reply, Godric reached forward and took the book from his hands as though it weighed nothing. He began to flip through it, and Ignotus rose nervously.

"I was researching for my challenge, sir."

"As I see."

He watched his Founder with a strange, twisting knot forming in his stomach, as Godric flipped through several pages, his frown still firmly in place.

Ignotus finally swallowed and asked, "Is something wrong, Master Godric?"

Godric glanced up at him with a piercing gaze that made Ignotus feel as though he had definitely done something wrong. And as suddenly as his Founder had taken the heavy volume, so he closed it and handed it back. But he did not leave. Instead, he sat down on the cold bench and invited Ignotus to sit as well.

Gravely, he asked, "Pray, why have you chosen to study the obscure subject of invisibility, Ignotus?"

Ignotus faltered, unsure why Godric seemed so severe, and so suddenly. Why hadn't his Founder voiced his concerns the night Ignotus had told him what he wanted to study? Confused, he stammered, "I... I thought it would be interesting, sir."

To this, there was a long pause. He eventually diverted his eyes, half afraid to continue looking at his Founder.

"I can, of course, extract the truth from your mind, Ignotus. But I would prefer that you tell me yourself. So I will ask you again. _Why_ have you chosen to study invisibility?"

Ignotus swallowed and shivered, suddenly much colder than he had been only five minutes prior.

And he had been doing so well, he thought hopelessly. He had thought he had finally been able to move forward from learning the news of his father's death. It had been almost two months since he had learned of it. He thought he could hide behind the desire to study Invisibility, by claiming it was an interesting subject. How could Godric know so much from so little?

In a quiet, shameful voice, he finally mumbled, "Is it so terrible that I should wish to become invisible at times, Master Godric?"

"Why should you wish to become invisible?"

Feeling hopeless, Ignotus said, "Sometimes I wish I could be invisible to avoid others. To disappear and not to have any worries. I know that sounds wretched and cowardly. One cannot avoid responsibility, and that's quite how I mean it. It's just that, sometimes, I wish I could simply become _invisible_. The world is such a dangerous place. It would be a relief to be able to have a means of defense that is different from the spells and curses I already know so well."

"And that is indeed a wise idea, Ignotus. Sometimes the best defense is to avoid a fight, rather than getting killed or grievously injured."

However, this one statement, said so calmly, had the effect of ice – cold, freezing, gripping. It was worse then the seeping cold of the bench they were seated on; it flooded Ignotus's brain and threatened to suffocate him. He forcibly reminded himself to breath, not to panic.

But Godric had noticed the way he had stiffened.

"Are you afraid of death, Ignotus?" he asked quietly, thoughtfully.

"Master Godric, I fear I _am_ a coward." Ignotus buried his face in his knees and arms. "I feel as though I have disgraced you, as though I do not deserve to study beneath you! I thought I had finally moved beyond my father's death!" He gripped his hair tightly, angry and hurt with himself. "I wish to become invisible because I wish to avoid death! Not for myself, but for others as well!"

"Ignotus, listen to me. You are no coward. No one moves beyond death so easily or quickly, unless they are truly evil and have no concerns for anything or anyone but themselves. You are not like that. The desire to avoid death is a common trait in humanity. Everyone is afraid of that _one moment_. The final moment of life. It is the end of everything we know, and yet, the beginning of everything we do _not_ know. I can understand that you wish to become invisible to avoid it, if possible. In a battle, this would be an interesting technique to use against your opponents."

"Please, cease to humor me, sir. It does not lessen the fact that I am a coward; that I would be so despicable as to become invisible and attack an enemy when they could not see me."

Godric exhaled heavily. "You are not listening to me. I have already said: _you are not like that_. You would not attack an enemy from behind, Ignotus. There is a difference between facing the battles that are necessary, and in escaping the battles that are not. Even I have bowed gracefully out of battles that I deemed unnecessary to fight. It is not running; it is _choosing_. The small, worthless battles are often the most dangerous. What is the sense in dying for a small, trifling matter when larger issues are present? Avoiding certain fights is just as brave as facing your enemies. And the ability to become invisible at will is an intriguing thought. But it is all about the _choices_ we make, Ignotus."

"Then why do I still feel so terrible for my choice of study? I _am_ interested in Invisibility, but at the same time, I am horrified at my decision."

"Because you are, essentially, a good person. Fear does not make you less than you are, nor does excessive bravery. Everyone is a balance of the two."

"You are not." Ignotus looked balefully at his Founder. "You are all bravery, and no fear."

Godric chuckled, but Ignotus noticed that his master also looked weary and bittersweet, almost sad. "Then I have failed you all terribly, if you believe such a thing. I am not the bravest man who has walked the earth, by any stretch of the imagination. I, too, have fears." He paused, and then murmured, "Many of them, if you will believe it."

"But what could _you_ possibly fear, sir?"

A strange, closed expression came over Godric's face, as though a tapestry had fallen behind his eyes, shielding his inner thoughts from Ignotus. And while Ignotus could tell his master was not angry with him, it was also clear that the subject would not be delved into further, nor would Godric answer the question. Instead, he finally forced a small smile and said, "I fear much, Ignotus. But do not trouble yourself about my worries. Let us focus on your own."

"You have worries," Ignotus said miserably, "And yet, I bother you with mine. That is not fair."

"You are hardly _bothering_ me! I _asked_ for your true feelings on the subject of your challenge, and invited your thoughts. Now, we return to that subject. I am glad you have chosen Invisibility, Ignotus. It is a mysterious subject with many interesting points, though, as I said before, a narrow field. But it is most definitely not – and I do not ever want you to believe otherwise – a subject of coward's study. You are not running from death, you are simply picking and choosing your battles. So, what shall you select for your final presentation? An essay? An object? A demonstration?"

Ignotus felt oddly drained from their discussion, but marginally more at ease. With a careless shrug, he looked down at the ancient book in his numb hands and said, "I do not know, sir. I haven't particularly thought about it. But, I've noticed in my readings that Disillusionment Charms and Bedazzling Hexes wear off after time, and they do not truly render the wizard invisible. They are the most common because they are easiest to perform, but there are glitches, if you will, in the castings of the spells. I have noticed this in my Charms' lessons with Mistress Helga. I was just reading about the Ancient Egyptians when you happened upon me. They seem to have several unusual spells that I wish to try and practice."

"Spells are still spells, no matter which you use. All spells will wear off eventually, whether in a few hours or a few centuries. To truly become invisible, you will have to tap a greater magic than what you currently know and understand." Godric smiled slightly, almost as though he were bemused.

Confused, Ignotus asked, "Greater magic, sir?"

"Oh, yes. You do not truly believe that what you are learning here at Hogwarts is the only magic, do you?"

"No, sir. That is why I wish to study ancient cultures' techniques on the subject of invisibility."

"You still misunderstand me. Even ancient cultures follow the same guidelines as you do now, for the most part. I am talking of magic greater than what you are remotely aware. Magic that surpasses everything most wizards ever consider. The beautiful magic that defines life, death, time, love, hate, fear, and bravery. You are young, but you will come to understand this magic, even if it takes time. It is the magic that moves our lives, the magic that is in the very fiber of the universe. It is difficult to explain. But to become _truly_ invisible, you must tap this magic. You must admit things to yourself that are nearly impossible to admit, you must believe in yourself when it seems there is nothing to believe in, and you must truly grasp everything about who you are – both the good and the bad things. Then, and only then, will you achieve true invisibility."

Godric paused, and then added thoughtfully, "Perhaps you should study the animals as well as the varying spells of invisibility."

Ignotus was still trying to comprehend the last speech, without much success. He had no idea what other magic Godric was referring to and, confused at the sudden change in direction, he stammered, "Animals?"

"Yes. Some animals have extraordinary properties that render them invisible. The Demiguise, for example, is an extremely rare animal, found only in remote areas of the Far East. I have never even seen one, myself. But, as I understand it, I couldn't see one, even if I tried. Only wizards _trained_ to see them actually _can_. This gentle beast makes itself utterly invisible to humans, friends, enemies, all alike."

Piqued, Ignotus said, "It sounds very interesting, sir. How does it make itself invisible?"

"Its coat, as I gather. The Demiguise has a coat of very long, very fine hair. In fact, the hair is so fine it is said to be like threads of the thinnest silk. I once met a Mongolian wizard who was trained to see them. He said they hide so well they are nearly impossible to catch."

"But... why do they hide, sir?"

"I believe it is because they are so gentle. They are completely non-violent. Why don't you see if you can find any books about this animal? You may also consider researching the area of Mongolia and Asia Major, and the mountains between Asia Major, Asia Minor, and Eurasia. There may be other similar animals in the world."

Godric then put a hand on his pupil's shoulder, and rose from the bench. "It's deathly cold out, Ignotus. You would do better to study in the castle. And I must find Gaderian – _he's next_." He gave Ignotus a twinkling, mischievous smile and winked roguishly.

Flushing with the instantaneous realization that Godric was seeking out _all_ of his students to question them further about their challenges and make them stop and think deeper, and that he wasn't the only one who had been singled aside, Ignotus ducked his head and rose as well. "Yes, sir."

He should have known Godric wished to test them all, to discover their true reasons for their selections in the challenge. That was how Godric worked, after all.

And, as his Founder went inside, his boots crunching on the thin layer of icy snow that covered the cold courtyard, the man merely laughed good-naturedly at Ignotus's surprise.

So good-naturedly, in fact, that Ignotus wondered yet again what on earth Godric Gryffindor had to fear.

**oOo**

The next few days passed in a whirlwind. In between lessons, students within the castle were devoting their free time to studying and researching their challenge topic. Ignotus located several additional books in the library that were a great help – he read about the Ancient Greeks' little-known spells that granted invisibility for longer periods of time than the usual spells did, as well as the complex Chinese theories regarding the subject, and the Nordic attempts to blend in to their surroundings for hunting purposes.

However, books regarding the mysterious Demiguise were harder to find; only a couple even mentioned the creature's extraordinary ability to disappear utterly and completely. He would have to discuss with Godric the possibility of procuring additional texts and scrolls from other areas of the world, if such a thing could be done.

While he studied in the library, Ignotus saw many of his friends working on their projects, as well. Callisto was constantly in the section that contained books of healing – she had even stopped work on her magical loom to gather information. Perseus had failed in his attempt to find any written material on Muggles, and so he had resorted to drilling any Muggle-born in the school that would let him pepper them with questions. Ross admitted secretly to Ignotus that he was sick of trying to help Perseus at all, and even Elva had snapped at Perseus to leave her alone for an hour so she could research her _own_ project.

Then there was Antioch, who was ignoring everyone's congratulations for inspiring the Founders to come up with the idea of the challenges in the first place. Ignotus saw him rarely as the next two weeks went by; apparently, Antioch was spending most of his time locked in his dormitory. It was rumored he had mountains of complicated notes, which no one understood in the least.

Cadmus was also spending much of his time secluded from others, which was even more disturbing than Antioch's withdrawal. The students of Ravenclaw confirmed that the middle Peverell brother was indeed studying spells of magical reversal, and they all believed that Cadmus was foolish and mad for what he wished to achieve. Furthermore, they often complained that he could be overheard muttering feverously to himself.

He was also ignoring Cearo, who had taken to asking Ignotus if he had spoken to Cadmus, nearly _every single bloody day_. Ignotus was growing rather tired of her clingy attention, for she didn't seem to stop her inquiries, despite his _insistence_ that Cadmus hardly spoke to him, either. He finally grew so tired of her that he traced Cadmus to the library one afternoon and demanded his older brother speak to Cearo, if only to stop her from bothering him daily.

Cadmus, on the other hand, had merely scowled at him and told him he had important research to complete, because the spells he was attempting to learn were much more difficult than Ignotus or Antioch's challenges, and furthermore, that Cearo, of all people, should understand that. Ignotus had stormed off in temper because Cadmus was so unfeeling and ungentlemanly, and reported to Cearo the next day that his brother was a right arse. Cearo had just sniffled and thanked him for trying, apologized for being such a bother, and made the off-hand comment that she hadn't felt much like herself the last week, having been ill.

Ignotus tried to forget about her and continued to dig deeper for books on the Demiguise, believing, for whatever reason, that the mysterious animal was the key to his quest for knowledge on invisibility. He was baffled at what the tangible manifestation of his project would be, however. He had no desire to write an essay or perform a variety of spells. He wanted to do something grander, something that would awe his Founders and his fellow classmates.

And, in the end, it was really Antioch that gave Ignotus his idea, though the eldest Peverell had no idea that he had inspired the youngest. After several nearly sleepless nights, Ignotus suddenly came to the conclusion that, if Antioch was creating a wand, and if Cadmus was creating an object that would bring back the dead, he should create some sort of an object to impress his teachers, as well. His thoughts began to move forward quickly, as though he were running to reach the idea he could see hovering, tantalizingly, before him. The Demiguise, the mysterious animal Godric had mentioned, could vanish completely by means of its long coat. What if he, Ignotus, could create a garment that would render him invisible simply by tossing it over his body? A cloak, perhaps? That was logical – cloaks worked for humans the same way a coat of fur or hair did for an animal.

The problem was, Ignotus has no idea how to create such an object. For once in the six years he had been training at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his mind felt ridiculously sluggish and dull. He was one of the most brilliant students of his age, so why was his mind refusing to locate a solution to his problem?

The only thing he could think to do was to create a cloak out of Demiguise hair, but that seemed impossible. Even Godric had never seen the beast before – so how was he, Ignotus, supposed to track one down and obtain even _one_ of the fine, thin hairs – let alone thousands of them – to weave such a project? Especially if one needed special training to detect the elusive creatures in the wild!

Still, the more he thought of it, the more fanciful the thought became, and it took hold of his thoughts in a way that annoyed him to no ends. It was such a harebrained idea. There was no possible way to make it work. And yet, before he knew it, Ignotus was consumed with the idea of creating a cloak that would render him invisible without casting spells upon his body itself. He continued reading, but by this point, he had read all the books the library offered on the subject of invisibility, and he was ready to _do_ something, rather than keep researching the way Cadmus was doing.

Finally, when he could think of absolutely nothing else, he forced himself to visit Godric in his Founder's personal chambers, to ask for advice.

To his surprise, Godric's dark eyes twinkled merrily when Ignotus slipped into the room after being bid to enter upon his knock. He wondered if the man had been expecting him, and everyone else, to eventually come for help.

But before Ignotus could explain himself, Godric said, "I was wondering when you would finally reach a dead-end and seek my assistance. Although, it has taken you longer than some of the others – Gaderian has already visited me, as well as Ross, Perseus, Elva, Callisto, and Cantrella."

Ignotus flushed. "I have been trying to determine a path for myself, sir. I was hoping I would not have to request assistance in this challenge." Then, realizing how abrupt and biting the words must have sounded, he apologized, "I'm sorry, I meant... What I _meant_ was –"

Godric laughed. "What you _meant_ was, that you – just as _everyone else_ – wanted to do this on your own, and it pains you to seek help! You are not the only one who thinks he is invincible, Ignotus." He gestured to a tall chair before his elaborately carved desk. "Now, sit down, and pray tell why you have come."

Ignotus sat on the edge of the seat, suddenly quite fidgety and nervous. After a moment, he pulled a piece of parchment from inside his cloak and unfolded it, saying, more in a rush than he intended, "I have been trying to decide what I should present at the end of next term in regards to my challenge, sir. I do not wish to write an essay or perform spell work. From my studies the past couple of weeks in the subject of Invisibility, I have learned that there are many types of magic from many regions of the world that we never consider. The Egyptians and Greeks have many unusual spells that I am intrigued by, such as the Aoratos Curse, and other charms to specifically render their tombs undetectable – which I feel is very important to my studies. And the Romans had certain spells that work much better than the Disillusionment Charm, but they're so obscure that it will require additional research into their language to decipher them – and I thought I knew Latin well! I know that some of them were used to protect wizarding necropolises, but others were used to hide objects of importance within the household from potential thieves. Then, in the mountains surrounding Transylvania, there are even more dangerous curses, like the Láthatatlan Curse and the Reverse-Appearance Hex, used against enemies, which are so dangerous that I wondered if I should even read about them. On the other hand, I discovered the Old Norse Usynlig Jinx, which can be used on a single body part or a single object, and is much tamer than the curses of Transylvania. The Norse wizards also have spells that enable them to blend in to their surroundings in order to hunt, which are slightly different from the Disillusionment Charm. In the Far East, in Nippon, there are strange spells called Inbijiburu Jimons, which I don't understand at all. I was hoping you would be able to procure any information about this for me. Apparently they use these spells for a variety of purposes, but those purposes were not included in the text I was reading from our library. It was also very difficult to find any texts regarding the Demiguise, except for everything you have already told me, plus one additional fact."

Ignotus paused to take a breath; Godric had not stopped him at any point in his rambling, nor did he speak now. He simply looked extremely interested, so Ignotus plunged on.

"According to a book I found on unusual animals of the Far East, the Demiguise is said to be very gentle, but highly terrified of all that come near it. For this reason, it becomes invisible, to protect itself. You told me this much, but the text goes a step further. It claimed that the pelts were highly valued. It did not say why they were valued, though. However, I was wondering... Antioch is making a wand for his project. If I am studying Invisibility, then perhaps, if I could procure a pelt... I could..." He began to trail off, realizing how stupid and far-fetched he must sound, but managed to force himself to finish what he had started, because Godric was watching him very closely. "...I could create a cloak that would render the wearer invisible. Sir."

The seconds ticked by in heavy silence, which slowly began to feel more like an eternity. Godric seemed deep in thought; his gaze was blank and he was utterly still. But then, just as Ignotus was about to hastily state that the idea was foolish and he would simply write a paper instead, his Founder finally roused himself to sit up straighter and lean over his desk to speak.

In a quiet voice, he said, "What you suggest would be an exceedingly difficult task, Ignotus. Securing the pelt, I'm afraid, would be the easiest part."

"The easiest? But sir, they can only be captured by trained wizards, and –"

Godric held up a hand, forcing his student to silence. After another long pause, he said quietly, "Securing the pelt could be done. For a price. You would have to be prepared to part with a large amount of Peverell gold for such a prize, I believe."

Ignotus swallowed. His family was one of the wealthiest pureblood lines in all of the Isles; only the House of Black was stronger than the House of Peverell. He, and both of his brothers, each had a vast inheritance that would last centuries of generations if properly managed. His mother did not care how he spent his share, which resided in his own private vault in the goblins' underground caverns near the River Thames, and even if he spent some of it to purchase a Demiguise pelt, he would have enough left for him and at least two future generations, if not three or four, depending on how he invested his wealth.

"Very well. I am prepared for that, sir," he said slowly.

Godric's thoughtful frown did not disappear, however. "As I say, that part would be the easiest. I would be willing to trace a pelt for you, though it may take some time. The hardest part will be to create the cloak you desire. Most invisibility spells were off after a time – either in a few hours, or a few decades, depending on the spell and its uses. Your best chance is to further research the spells used to secure wizarding tombs of the past. Such spells were designed by the ancients to last centuries. And that is what you need. You must discover a way to create a cloak that never becomes opaque; a cloak that remains utterly perfect throughout the ages."

Confused, Ignotus sputtered, "But how?"

His founder gave him a small smile. "I advised you a while back that you would need to tap uncharted magic to accomplish your task. And I meant it. But for now, let us focus on how you will create a cloak once the pelt is secured, and not on the spells that will render the wearer invisible."

When Ignotus looked hopelessly blank, Godric mused, "You would need to dissect the pelt, hair by hair, to create the threads for a cloak. Then you would need to weave each of those threads into the desired shape. You cannot simply throw the pelt over your body, you know. You would have done nothing to earn marks for your challenge except toss some gold about, in that case."

"Callisto." Her name fell from Ignotus's lips too easily; he flushed bright pink as soon as it left his mouth. The beautiful girl whom he was hopelessly in love with, but to whom he had never confessed his feelings, was the one person who had the ability to help him now.

Of course.

Godric smiled, though it seemed a secretive smile. Ignotus hoped his master had not read his thoughts at that moment, and his insides squirmed unpleasantly.

But if he had, Godric did not mention it. Instead, he said, "If I were you, I would ask her in advance. She is working very diligently on her own project, as I am sure you well know. But she is talented in the field of weaving, and she knows many tricks and spells that might be of importance in your work. However. You _cannot_ pay Callisto to weave the cloak for you – you will have to let her train you to use her loom. Are you willing to do a woman's task, Ignotus? Are you willing to weave cloth?"

"Yes, sir! I mean, I would never _dream_ of...!" Ignotus swallowed his anger at his Founder's suggestion. "I would _never_ ask her or pay her to do my own project! I would not be embarrassed to weave a cloak for my challenge."

Godric nodded in approval. "Very well. But I fear, Ignotus, that you have chosen the most difficult challenge of all my students. Perhaps of all the students in the castle."

"Perhaps. But I will see it through, sir. I will not fail if I can possibly achieve."

"I will see what I can do for you, then. I will speak to you once I know more. Was that all for today, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. You are free to go."

Ignotus rose and left, though he felt as though he were sleepwalking. It was only when he reached the portrait to the tower did he wonder again if he were going mad, desiring to create a cloak from _Demiguise hair_.

But then, if he were mad, surely Godric would have told him so.

...wouldn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began writing this story in 2008, LONG before "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" was made into a movie. As such, I had my own idea about what a Demiguise looked like. And it wasn't the adorable little creature that Newt works with in the movie. I pictured a Demiguise as much larger, like a silver backed gorilla, only ridiculously gentle and relatively harmless. This will definitely affect future chapters. I ultimately decided not to change my interpretation of a Demiguise simply because it would mean some larger rewrites.
> 
> Translations for this chapter:
> 
> Aoratos Curse – Greek for "Invisible Curse".
> 
> Láthatatlan Curse – I wrote this chapter years ago, so I can't remember which language I pulled this from, but it means "Invisibility Curse". For some reason, I'm thinking I probably used a Romanian translation, but I'm not positive.
> 
> Usynlig Jinx – Norwegian for "Invisible Jinx". I went with Norwegian instead of Old Norse since the Vikings originated in the Norway and Denmark areas.
> 
> Inbijiburu – Japanese for "Invisible".


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Mel on FFN, who caught a mistake in this chapter and alerted me so I could correct it.
> 
> Also, Ellhorn is another name for Elder wood.
> 
> ~BD

****

## Obsessions of Hate and Death

****

The candle guttered in the pewter sconce, sending dim flecks of light over parchments of extensive notes and two open tomes upon the cluttered table. It was quite late, but Antioch was almost finished, and he did not wish to go to sleep until the last bit of research had been documented.

He had exhausted every book regarding wandlore that the Hogwarts' library had to offer; but more importantly, he had visited Deogal Ollivander several times in Hogsmeade, gaining far more knowledge than was possible to glean from any book. Still, that was only a fraction of what he _could_ learn about wandlore.

Antioch had quickly become aware that Ollivander had a vault of knowledge stored away in his head, which the man would not give up all at once...if at all. It would be a long process in which the eldest Peverell would have to prove himself worthy; before he could obtain the crucial, vital information he needed to succeed.

His eyes flickered to the candle as it sputtered and sent a myriad of golden specks across his spiky, meticulous handwriting. For a brief moment, he allowed his mind to drift, needing the rush of anger his thoughts would bring, in order to refocus on his task, lest he yearn for his soft bed and decide to complete the research the following morning. He needed to begin collecting materials next, and he needed to remain on a tight schedule.

Within the tiny, dancing flame, he could see everything that had happened just a few short months ago, beginning with the huge, rocky, uneven stretch of land between a large castle and a double-towered fortress. The distance between the two structures was some two leagues, and they were only visible to each other in the clearest of weather. Both allegedly belonged to the Findlay Clan as points of defense against the raging North Sea, unwanted visitors, and enemies.

Unfortunately, that particular day, the weather was so dismal that neither stronghold was visible, nor could anyone define where the edges of the cliffs were. Several wizards had vanished from both sides of the battle, simply because they had wandered too close to the sky and slipped, plummeting nearly fourteen hundred feet to the churning, crashing, yawning black waves below.

Antioch had not been foolish enough to venture towards that side of the battle, though he'd had to force Cadmus to avoid that direction more than once. His middle brother had no sense of direction, especially in such foggy, gray conditions, and this characteristic irritated the eldest to no end.

For Antioch however, such conditions heightened his senses and made the battle a challenge rather than a hindrance. In fact, his only _hindrance_ was to keep Cadmus alive; would his brother have stayed at Peverell Fortress, Antioch could have focused much more clearly on the battle at hand and actually enjoyed the rush of adrenaline and the crucial, instantaneous decisions that had to be made. While many of Findlay Clan had panicked when they discovered the clouds had rolled in before dawn, Antioch had thrived on the difficultness of the situation and used the weather to his advantage. After all, if such weather made things difficult for the forces of Findlay, it would also make the battle difficult for the forces of MacBain. Using his cool logic, he had managed to kill three of the MacBain wizards just in that battle alone, but for his three, Findlay had lost eight.

Cadmus had been by far the worst warrior on the field; it was a miracle he had survived at all. But despite the fact that he kept his life that day, he had been confused and panicked, and as such, the middle Peverell brother had nearly attacked two of his allies and had almost attacked Antioch, before Antioch lost his temper and sent his brother back to the main line in a rush of fierce temper. Cadmus was not suited for outlying work, which was more difficult and more deadly; and yet, he had complained bitterly when Antioch had all but thrown him towards the Findlay lines.

Antioch hadn't given a damn what Cadmus felt. Battle was the last place for sullen, childish tantrums and the worst place to become confused and panicked. Furthermore, Antioch had promised his mother he would keep Cadmus safe, though that day, he sorely wished he'd promised nothing of the sort.

It was only when Findlay sounded a regrouping call that Antioch himself left the misty fields of battle, though he was forced to step over several bodies on his way back towards the towers that Findlay still controlled. They were no closer to approaching the fortress that the MacBain Clan had taken two weeks prior, and he was furious that he should have to retreat for a respite when he had been doing so well on his own.

But his victories were not unsung. When he returned to the base camp, half a league from the tower, several of the leaders nodded to him as he approached, and his father met him and gave him a proud smile, while clapping his shoulder solidly.

"Thou hast done well, Antioch. I have heard tale that you have dueled three wizards of MacBain, and won all of your individual battles in the middle land."

"And so I desire to return to the field," Antioch had said coldly. He could ignore the cuts to his cheek and temple and arm, and the mud that splattered up his boots and cloak, simply for this praise and the chance to return to battle. And he'd thought that surely Corvus would not deny him this request, but he was wrong.

"Nay." His father nodded towards the leaders of Findlay, who were gathered in a tight circle, frantically discussing their options. "Despite your victories, our forces are, on the whole, doing quite poorly. Murchadh has decided that we must pit everything on a single duel."

"A single duel?" Antioch's brow had furrowed and his dark eyes narrowed sharply. "Against whom?"

"Athol MacBain. The strongest of their warriors. The MacBain clan has agreed. If we win the duel, we will gain four strongholds on the venture. If we lose, then we must retreat and hand over three additional fortresses."

So it was down to this, was it? Findlay and MacBain had been battling for nearly five years over land disputes, with little gained and many lives lost. It was time for it to end. Inhaling sharply, he said, "I understand. I shall accept such a duel, father."

But Corvus had merely chuckled at his request; the sound grated against Antioch's nerves.

"Hardly, my son! I will not send my eldest on such a deadly errand, for one of the duelers will most definitely lose everything. I did not even wish you as an outlying warrior, seeing as you must carry on our family name. _I_ have offered my services to Tearlach, and I shall accept this challenge. You, however, must remember your mother, and your brothers. Ignotus is still a boy," he went on, now grave. "He will need your guidance, if perchance I fail. Cadmus is not up to such a task, and I rather believe Ignotus likes you best out of his choices. He looks up to you, Antioch. He would be devastated if I returned to tell him you had been killed."

The candle guttered from a sudden draft, and Antioch tensed, bringing himself back to the reality of his small dormitory in Hogwarts before he lost his temper. Despite his father's words that day, and despite the fact that he knew he had a duty as the eldest son, he had not wanted his father to accept the duel. He would have gladly taken the opportunity. Ignotus, after all, could have carried on the Peverell name.

Worse was the fact that just because the Peverell family had a distant blood relation with the Clan of Findlay, did not mean they needed to step into something so deadly, and that was what had infuriated Antioch the most. Tearlach, as leader of his clan, should have accepted this challenge rather than passing it off to Corvus, who was simply an ally, only distantly related to the Clan by blood. Several times, Antioch had witnessed Tearlach worm his way out of his duties to avoid death.

But despite his fury at Findlay's decisions, Antioch had not gainsaid his father. He had stepped back, alongside Cadmus (who had seemed even less cheerful of Corvus's decision than Antioch was), and when the warriors returned to the center of the battlefield to face the Clan of MacBain, he had stood at his father's left side, tall and proud, his eyes narrowed sharply on Athol MacBain.

Athol wore a heavy, goblin-made armor that shielded his body and face, but even such armor was faulty. Antioch knew where the weak points were, where Athol would likely be unsuspecting. And he knew that his father would be aware of these as well. But when Corvus Peverell had stepped forward without any armor whatsoever, wearing only his breeches, knee-high boots, a heavy tunic and a thick cloak, Antioch had felt a stab of fear such as he had never felt in his life.

He had known somehow, in that instance, that the venture was doomed.

The worst part had not been watching the duel itself, for Antioch was accustomed to such things. He had been fighting in the Clan Wars for an entire year. Cadmus, on the other hand, was more panicked during this segment than before. Antioch ignored him for the most part, focusing sharply on the flying of curses and flashes of light.

The worst part had been when Athol shouted a curse that Antioch had been entirely unfamiliar with. It did not occur slowly as some people expect such things to happen, but it had been fast and blinding. The curse hit Corvus Peverell's wand's tip and before Antioch even knew what had happened, his father was suddenly on the ground. Blood was everywhere, and the wand was in hundreds of splinters over the rocky crevices. Cadmus had immediately begun screaming incoherently; some of the Findlay Clan had grabbed hold of his arms to keep him from running forward while others lifted their wands, ready for instant fighting should it break out. Antioch himself had already thrown up a defense, sensing that Athol's next move would be to eliminate additional warriors wherever possible. It had proved well thought, for at least two spells collided with the protection shield Antioch had cast, only seconds after he had throw it before the Findlay lines. And, as soon as the curses had rebounded, Antioch had begun fighting against Athol, even as his father's blood continued to seep across the cold stones on the ground.

Then, above the din of Cadmus's screams and the Findlay Clan's yells, he heard Athol's shout of laughter, followed by the most humiliating thing of all:

_Your father was a weakling, a coward! He had no command of his wand, or he would not have died! Do you have command of your wand,Antioch? I doubt it! You do not even know how to kill, do you? Step forward and fight me if you dare, boy! My wand is the most powerful in the world; you do not stand a chance against the power of MacBain!_

The words had been mixed with sneers and more laughter, more flashes and spells and curses. Antioch was fighting fiercely, determined to destroy this man, to destroy as many as he could, hatred filling his body more than he had ever experienced.

But one of the leaders of MacBain put a stop to this new fight by grabbing Athol's shoulder and throwing him forcibly to the ground. The leader then snarled at the Findlay Clan to gather their dead and retreat the four leagues, as promised on the conditions of the duel. Antioch, breathing heavily, had remained standing, tall and proud, his hand clenched tightly on the handle of his wand, daring Athol silently to step forward and disobey his master.

But Athol would not. He retreated, laughing mockingly all the while.

And behind the laughter, Antioch began to hear a new sound, one that came to him sharply and terribly: The sound of Cadmus's hysterical yells, rebounding off the fog-ridden landscape.

His brother had finally managed to run forward, and was now clutching his father's lifeless hand, shaking the body as though he could reawaken it. Angry with Cadmus for betraying weakness, Antioch had turned and shouted for his brother to be silenced. Then he had levitated his father's body and directed it through the crowd of warriors, hurrying to escape.

Four leagues had been a nightmare of a journey as they had guided the dead with their wands, pressing deeper and deeper within the Findlay territory, past fortresses they had lost in one single duel, all because Athol MacBain had claimed to have a wand more powerful than any other. Those within the fortresses they passed were forced to join their march; women wailed and children cried as they were forced to leave their homes, but Antioch had ignored them all as he looked into his father's cold face. The events of that afternoon continued to spider and twist through his brain as he listened to Cadmus's sniffles and incoherent babbling on their trek, and he became angrier and more hateful with every step.

Deep in the night, they had reached the first stronghold they had not lost: a tightly guarded castle that had never expected such a loss to arrive at so late an hour. And on the towering cliffs overlooking the North Sea, Antioch alone had buried his father's blood-encrusted, broken body, while Cadmus was given a Calming Draught and other potions to help him sleep.

In the cold, damp wind and the near pitch-blackness, Antioch had dug the hole with a shovel, relishing the feel of his tired, aching, weary muscles protesting volubly against the rough exercise. Digging kept him outside, away from the Clan, away from those who had sent his father to his death without the first shred of shame. He knew he would only lose his temper with the Findlay Clan (whom his father had reminded him more than once were their allies, no matter how distant) if he went inside before he was sufficiently exhausted. So instead of using his wand to create a hole, he dug it as though he knew no magic. As though he were nothing more than a common _Muggle_. It had struck him, at the end of the process, as he was filling the hole that Salazar and Serpentina would have both been exceedingly disappointed in him. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care.

The next two weeks had been just as much of a nightmare. The pain had resided to a dull, gnawing throb. It was becoming almost a hunger, for Antioch desired nothing more than to kill Athol and sever ties with Findlay, and his brain was constantly thinking of ways to achieve both goals.

In the meanwhile, Cadmus was talking to himself like a madman. The others believed the middle Peverell brother to be utterly mad, and Antioch had found that he was wishing more and more that Ignotus had journeyed to the north instead of Cadmus – he had more of a bond with Ignotus anyways, just as his father had told him before he had died. His youngest brother was stronger magically in the field of Defense, and stronger mentally than the middle, and Antioch had always known it.

If he cared for anyone, it was Ignotus. Emotions were for the weak, and he was a warrior. And yet, if he had allowed himself to think it, he would have said he loved his youngest brother – the brother who looked up to him and asked him for advice and help when he was studying magic, or laughed with him over a good jest during their times at Peverell Fortress. If there was any reason for severing ties with Findlay, it was for Ignotus – Antioch did not want his youngest brother to be sucked in to the fighting simply because Findlay was attempting to lay claim to a distant blood-tie. It _would_ end, as soon as Athol was dead.

Shaking himself from these reflections, he looked back at his parchments in the candlelight of his dorm. He needed to focus on wand-making now, to achieve the first goal.

So far he had read of many things that affected the wands themselves during their creations, but the most important elements were the wood and the core.

Ollivander typically used only three types of cores, though there were many, many other options.

Unicorn tail hair was an exceptionally good choice, the wand maker had claimed, though wands containing a unicorn tail hair typically aligned themselves to those who were, as Ollivander put it, "pure of heart". That, it seemed, did not fit what Antioch wished to accomplish. He was not "pure of heart", and neither was Athol. To destroy one so evil, he would need to combat evil with evil.

Then there was Dragon Heartstring, highly magical and best for Defense. But this even seemed tame for what Antioch wanted. He did not want to defend; he wanted to destroy.

Phoenix Feather intrigued him, as it was even more strangely magical than the heartstrings of the dragons. A Phoenix could be reborn from the ashes, for it never died. But after some debate, Antioch had rejected this idea also, despite his intrigue. Cadmus was trying to create an object that would reclaim the dead, and Antioch did not wish to do anything similar to his brother.

Ollivander had then reluctantly explained that some wandmakers, those from other areas of the world, used other cores. The core of a wand could be anything with highly magical properties, though it must be something from a magical creature.

Thus, Antioch had started to consider other options for the wand's core, but so far he had not selected any particular one. Most of the creatures he read about were in other countries anyways, and procuring the necessary core would prove tedious and difficult unless he selected a magical animal native to Britain.

As for the wood, however, he had already decided upon Ellhorn.

Like cores, there were many types of wood used for wands, all of which gave an individual wand a different touch.

Birch was associated with purification, blessings, health, new beginnings, and vitality. Rowan and Ash woods were used for protection. He had already decided against these three from the very beginning of his research. Alder would work if he were unable to locate Ellhorn wood, for it was a tree associated with strength. On the other hand, Willow was too flimsy and swishy and weak for Antioch's liking. Hawthorn was also associated with purity; too innocent for the task at hand. Oak might have been a good choice, for it was associated with strength as well, but Oak wands were typically heavier and more stubborn. Ignotus's wand, for instance, was Oak, and Antioch did not need a stubborn wand. The wood worked well for his brother's hotheaded temperament, but it likely wouldn't respond to Antioch very well. Holly was a wood of balance, and Antioch did not desire balance; he wanted to tip the scales. Hazel aligned with those who sought wisdom and exemplified creativity, and Vine was too cheerful a wood for his liking. Ivy went hand in hand with growth, and he had passed the phase of growth. Antioch's own wand was of Yew, and he wished to try something else.

That was when he had struck upon Ellhorn, or Elder Wood. Rumored to ward off evil and death, it aligned with powerful wizards who desired to either protect others, or battle against others. Ollivander wasn't overly fond of Ellhorn, and did not make as many wands of it as he did of the other woods. But as Antioch desired to destroy evil, beginning with Athol's _superior_ wand, it seemed the most appropriate choice for his task.

From Ollivander, he also learned that a lot of the wand's temperament depended on _where_ the wood was extracted. A tree in a forest, for example, would produce a slightly different magical vibration than a tree growing near the ocean. Ellhorn was not commonly found in the highlands of the north, but more often in the southern reaches of Britain. Therefore, a tree of Ellhorn growing in the north was much stronger, much more determined to live, than the same tree in the south. Such properties would be passed on to the wand.

After much pondering, Antioch had decided that the best place to find the ideal tree of Ellhorn was, naturally, a graveyard in the north – for it would be embedded with all the strength of the dead, and their desires to destroy evil, especially if evil had destroyed them, plus the determination to survive in a harsh environment.

Perhaps it was a twisted way of thinking, but Antioch didn't care. After all, he was not trying to raise the dead. He was trying to create a wand of power. And Death, it seemed, was the most powerful entity in the world – for everyone succumbed to Death eventually.

Even Athol would bow before his final master.

He sighed and put his quill down, and leaned back in his chair. Now that he thought about it, he was quite exhausted. He would have to determine which creature to use for the core later. Perhaps it would not be a bad idea to sleep, some. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would discuss the idea with Master Salazar or Ollivander. But he knew he wanted a creature that defied Death as much as Ellhorn Wood did. Together, such a combination would be certain of power.

Stretching, he rose and stripped his tunic off, and extinguished the flame of the candle with his fingertips.

**oOo**

The grounds were cold, but Antioch relished the nipping wind and threat of snow. The dungeons were damp, draughty, and a bit oppressing. Outside, the dismal atmosphere and freezing air gave him the reminder that all humans fought fiercely against the forces that attempted to eradicate them.

He smiled as he stopped halfway down the slope and gazed towards the leafless forest. The wild beauty of the North had always attracted him, and he remembered when he first left Peverell Fortress, at the age of eleven, to attend Hogwarts. His mother had been most distraught, and insisted to Corvus that witches and wizards were under the duty to teach their own children magic. But Corvus knew Godric Gryffindor well, and explained that the Founders of Hogwarts wanted their scheme to work – a school where young witches and wizards could go to learn magic in a controlled environment, with others of their kind. And thus, Antioch had left for Hogwarts and was taken by Salazar. The following year, Cadmus arrived, quiet and thoughtful, and was selected by Rowena. Ignotus had been desolate without his brothers, and Antioch had been proud, at the age of thirteen, when Godric announced that he would take eleven-year-old Ignotus into his fold.

Since then, the brothers had loved Hogwarts, much to their mother's disappointment. She was lonely without her sons, and now, she grieved on top of her loneliness, for her husband was dead.

Antioch stiffened at this thought, and closed his eyes to control his sudden rush of fury. To avenge, he must complete the wand. That was all he needed to think of right now.

But when he opened his eyes, he blinked in surprise.

Moving with graceful, wary gaits out of the forest and onto the brown grass of the castle lawns was a large herd of Thestrals.

For a few moments, Antioch watched as the creatures folded their long, dragon-like wings and bent their heads to nibble on the course grass. He had heard other students complain that Thestrals were ugly, deformed, horrible creatures that brought ill luck, but he had never believed such a thing. To Antioch, they were beautiful and mysterious, gentle and placid. Sad to think they had resorted to eating grass; fresh meat must not have been available. With a pang, he wondered if he could find something to kill for them, so they would not starve throughout what was likely to be a bitter winter.

"What on earth are you staring at so intently?"

Antioch turned. He had not heard the muffled footsteps behind him, but his visitor was not unwelcome.

Ignotus's jet black hair was quite tousled by the sharp wind, and he looked pale and tired, but at least he was not wearing the expression of sadness and moody sullenness he had been sporting the last two months; ever since Antioch and Cadmus had informed him of Corvus's death.

"Thestrals," Antioch replied quietly, turning his eyes back to the majestic creatures as they shivered and huddled together for warmth.

"I cannot see them."

"I know."

"I have often wondered what they looked like."

Antioch glanced at his little brother, to discover his pale features were now marked with frustration. Rather than remind Ignotus that he should be grateful he could not see the creatures of Death, or that he was certain Ignotus had possibly read about the creatures in his studies, he chose a gentler route that seemed more appropriate when discussing these animals.

"They look similar to horses; that is, they have the body of a horse. They are always black in color. Their faces are more like those of dragons, and they have long wings with which to fly. They are fast creatures, though I confess I have never ridden one. Serpentina has. She claims they are brilliant animals. She has a fondness for our herd, here."

"A lot of people consider them unlucky. Some say they are creatures of Death, since you can only see them if you have witnessed someone die." Ignotus was staring at the place where the Thestrals roamed, but the frustration was still there. To him, the lawn in front of the forest was simply a blank void; empty and lifeless.

"Superstitions." Antioch frowned. "And even if you witness someone die, you must accept the death before you can see the Thestrals. Serpentina has done quite a bit of study on them, and she discovered this fact two years ago."

There was a long pause, and then Ignotus said, "I apologize for interrupting you. I saw you on the lawn and thought I would come speak to you. I have not seen you for several days."

"My apologies. I have been quite absorbed in my work," Antioch murmured distantly, as one of the animals lifted its reptilian head and blinked at him benignly. "I hear you have been, as well."

"Yes."

"I have also heard that you have exhausted your research and are ready to begin working on your project. I am proud of you. You are the first person in the castle to complete their research prior to Yule."

"I'm not sure if that is something to be proud of," a harsh voice interrupted. "He has likely done sloppy work, Antioch. Time and patience are needed for such intense studies. Ignotus will likely fail for trying to complete his project with such ridiculous speed."

Antioch felt his lip wrinkle, despite his attempts to remain impassive. He saw Ignotus bristle, a stiffening of his lean body beneath the heavy red cloak he wore, and before his little brother could retaliate, as was his wont, Antioch turned and sneered at Cadmus.

"We did not invite your company, or your opinions. Master Godric has already given Ignotus permission to begin his project. He would not have done so had he not been confident of our brother's endeavors and knowledge on his chosen challenge."

" _Invisibility_." Cadmus glared at Ignotus, despite the fact that his little brother was several inches taller than he was. He kept several feet of distance however, in case Ignotus drew his wand before Antioch could stop him. "I am stunned Master Godric has allowed you to research such a cowardly subject."

Antioch grabbed Ignotus's shoulder roughly to hold him back. Harshly, he snarled, "Leave him be. He is no coward. I have already told you once to leave him alone, and I will _not_ tell you again."

"I do not fear you, Antioch." Cadmus smiled, but it was a twisted smile, almost psychotic.

"You should," Ignotus said suddenly, and with vehemence. "He is much better than you at dueling."

Cadmus scowled. " _And_ better than you. Do not forget it."

"I would not presume to believe I could best Antioch in a duel."

" _Enough_ ," Antioch snapped. "Cadmus, what the devil do you want?"

"I merely saw my brothers on the lawn as I passed one of the windows on the first floor, and thought I would come speak to them. I did not expect such rude censure. It is clear Ignotus favors you above me."

"You are doing little to earn his favor, accusing him of being a coward and berating him on his project."

"Well, you mistake me. I do not wish to be at odds with either of my brothers."

"You will have to do better than that," Antioch growled. "I do not intend to humor your strange moods, Cadmus."

Cadmus chose to ignore this remark and turned to the Thestrals with obvious distaste. "Horrid animals. Why are you so intent upon them, Antioch? They are quite foul. And you," he added, glancing scornfully at Ignotus. "You cannot even see them. Is staring into nothingness so entertaining, brother?"

Ignotus shifted angrily, but Antioch kept firm hold on his shoulder. "I have been describing them for him. A gesture of kindness. Perhaps you should consider such things, Cadmus. And they are not horrid. They are gentle creatures. You believe idiotic rumors if you find them to be evil."

"Everyone knows they are dangerous."

Antioch snorted. "Only to those they distrust, or those who antagonize them. They are gentle and good-hearted to those who show them kindness. I was considering killing a cow for them to eat, as they are cold and hungry, and few bother themselves with the care of Thestrals." He turned to Ignotus. "Perhaps you should come with me. You will be able to see them eat, though not the beasts themselves. It will be an interesting sight."

Ignotus looked surprised. "Very well."

" _Interesting_? That is not the word I would select, Antioch." Cadmus shuddered. "It will be _disgusting_ ; all you will witness is meat and muscle being stripped from bones, Ignotus. You would do better to research your cowardly topic more than run a fool's errand with Antioch."

This time, Antioch lost his temper completely. He drew his hand and slashed it through the air before Ignotus had a chance to draw his own. For a moment, Cadmus looked as though he might choke, and when he opened his mouth, no words came out.

Scathingly, Antioch snarled, "I advised you that I would not warn you a third time, Cadmus. But, as you were selected by Mistress Rowena, it should not take you long to find a counter-curse. Ignotus, come."

And before Ignotus could comment on the fact that Antioch had hexed Cadmus, Antioch dragged his brother by the arm towards the gates of the school. He threw up a nonverbal protection spell as well, which proved useful, as Cadmus did not need his voice to attempt to fight back.

Ignotus partially turned and threw up a second protection spell as well, because Cadmus was clearly furious; fortunately, they reached the gates quickly and Antioch turned to follow one of the high stone boundary walls.

"Where are we going?" Ignotus asked, glancing back nervously to see if Cadmus was following them.

Antioch walked briskly, attempting to wear off his temper more than anything else. More sharply than he meant, he said, "There is a field half a league from here where a Muggle farmer keeps livestock."

"I am not allowed out of the castle grounds. You know that."

He paused and glanced at his brother, but Ignotus did not look worried about breaking the rules. If anything, he rather looked pleased. Antioch smiled at him, lifted his wand, and from the tip burst a silver leopard, which raced back to the castle.

"Godric will not question if you are with me," he said simply.

Ignotus laughed, and the sound washed over Antioch like balm. For a split second, he wondered if it were worth it to hate Athol so deeply. Hate was a taxing emotion, and though Antioch was strong, he had to admit it was wearing on him a bit. Ignotus was lucky, he thought, that he was so pure of heart. He had no idea how hate could eat one's soul.

They walked in comfortable silence after that, though just as they approached the field of their destination, which was surrounded by a low, smooth wall of stones, a huge silver lion bounded up behind them and roared. Antioch turned and faced it fearlessly, and the lion sat down and opened its mouth.

Godric's voice came out: calm, but with a hint of sharpness. "Do not be long, Antioch. Younger students are not allowed outside the walls. But I shall pretend I know nothing today."

Then the lion vanished, and Antioch chuckled. "Isn't that just like him? You are lucky to have such a good-natured Founder, Ignotus. I fear Master Salazar is more strict."

"Master Godric can be strict, too."

"Both are excellent teachers, though." Antioch gazed over the stones to the animals that were grazing quietly in the field. Most, he noticed, were thin. A cold winter was approaching, and apparently the Muggles were having a hard year as well.

Ignotus seemed confused, and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"One that will not be missed." Antioch continued to search with his eyes. "Muggles need to live too," he said, though with slight distaste. "I would feel evil if I were to take the fattest. But I cannot take the thinnest, because the Thestrals need meat, too."

"Cannot they get meat on their own?"

"Yes, but they mostly stay in the forest. They rarely venture outside of it. The fact that they have done so indicates that they are hungry." He used his wand to point at a cow standing apart from the others, neither the fattest nor the thinnest.

He felt, rather than saw, Ignotus's body tense when he cast a nonverbal Killing Curse. The green light flashed brilliantly and swiftly, the cow dropped, and he lowered his wand. It was over in seconds, but only then did he look at his brother.

"We should take two back. The herd is quite large and they would appreciate more than just one. That one there," he said, pointing with his wand to another cow. "It will do. Go on."

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably. "The Avada Kedavra Curse requires more than just words. I do not know how."

"Then you shall learn today."

"You brought me here to teach me _this_?"

Antioch sighed. He did not want his brother to be a killer like he was, but Ignotus needed forbearance of mind to cast the curse. Antioch would not have him die needlessly, not without at least having the ability to fight back. His father would wish him to teach his brother such things...just in case. Because one never knew when it might be necessary.

"Ignotus, you must learn. We live in a world of constant warfare. Please try," he encouraged quietly.

Ignotus sighed, but lifted his wand and aimed carefully, keeping his back quite straight and his chin tilted slightly.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

Nothing happened, but Antioch had not expected anything the first time. He leaned against the stone barrier that surrounded the pasture. "More feeling."

"You cast it nonverbally."

"Because I have mastered the curse. Try again."

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

There was a spark of green, but no flash. The cow continued chewing grass, unaware of the situation.

Antioch glanced emotionlessly at Ignotus's wand and flustered face. "Better. To cast a Killing Curse, Ignotus, you must focus your energy to the task. Strong emotions are best when attempting such a thing."

Ignotus lowered his wand. "Pray," he asked, hesitating slightly. "May I ask what you were thinking of when you killed just now?"

Antioch's eyebrows lifted. "The Thestrals. They are starving."

"Pity and sadness are strong emotions," Ignotus murmured, gazing at the cow.

"Any emotion can be strong, Ignotus. Channeling it is the key to this Gordian Knot."

After a moment, his youngest brother lifted his wand again, and Antioch saw his chest rise with the intake of breath.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

His voice was quiet, almost harsh, almost unfeeling, but his clear hazel eyes, the color of the leaden sky above, betrayed his true feelings. He did not want to cast the curse, but despite that, a blinding flash of green light exploded from the end of Ignotus's wand, striking the unfortunate animal, which toppled after a couple of prolonged seconds.

All was quiet. Even the wind was silent.

Ignotus exhaled slowly. Antioch placed a gentle, sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"I will not lie to thee. It never gets easier."

**oOo**

While Ignotus stood to one side, watching the strange sight of meat being stripped from bones by unseen creatures, Antioch stroked one of the Thestrals' cold noses.

"Why can I not see them now?" Ignotus finally asked, almost impatiently.

Antioch chuckled. Still such a child, his little brother was. Amused, he replied, "Killing a mere farm animal, or watching one die, is not the same as watching a person die, little brother. The two are entirely different." The chuckle died and he waxed serious. "Only when you watch a person die, and accept their death, are you able to see these creatures."

Ignotus fell silent then, though he looked sullen when Antioch glanced over his shoulder. The youngest Peverell wished he could see the strange creatures, too. Antioch felt a pang of remorse: one day, his brother would very likely be able to see the animals he himself found so beautiful, but that others, like Cadmus, detested. The ability to see the creatures only came with the witness and acceptance of Death. Thestrals represented, tangibly, the power to overcome Death.

It was as though a droplet of water had fallen from a long distance and shattered upon a perfectly still lake, as mirror of glass, and ripples suddenly fanned from the center where the drop had struck.

Antioch's hand stopped its methodical stroking of the beast before him; he stared wide without seeing.

These were creatures that defied Death, by allowing wizards and witches who embraced Death's horrific power to see them.

Just as Ellhorn defied Death with determination and power.

How had he not thought of it before now?

He heard his name, as though through a barrier of fog, but it was several seconds before he fully realized that Ignotus had called to him.

"Forgive me... I just realized..." Antioch trailed off, and managed to force an apologetic smile when he saw that Ignotus looked confused and wary. "I am sorry, brother. I was just thinking that these creatures were grateful to us for our assistance today."

Ignotus did not look convinced, but did not ask questions. He turned to look back at the castle just as the Thestral Antioch was petting turned to head for the forest.

Taking advantage of the situation, Antioch reached forward, almost as though an unseen power made his hand move of its own accord, and as the Thestral flicked its long tail, the strands of fine black silk tossed briefly over Antioch's hand. He twisted his hand slightly, catching one single hair between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.

The Thestral did not turn back, or even flinch, when the single thread remained behind, tightly captured.

Antioch inhaled sharply.

He _would_ win this battle.

**oOo**

He hadn't wanted to venture out of doors at all.

He had only stepped out to speak to his brothers, but upon Antioch's harsh rebuke, Cadmus had quickly returned indoors.

Now he stood by one of the mullioned windows on the first floor again, watching as Antioch and Ignotus's figures disappeared on the line of the horizon. He clenched his fist over the object it held, feeling the smooth hardness press against his skin almost painfully.

Cadmus himself was unsure why he had bothered to speak to them. When he had first seen them together on the grounds, Antioch watching those wretched beasts with such revolting affection, he had felt a stab of sorrow at the fact that he had acted so discouragingly to his kin lately. And Antioch had reacted as he did towards nearly everything else – with no feeling or compassion. But Cadmus had grudgingly forced himself to admit that he was taking his anger regarding his father's death out on Ignotus, when the boy had done little to deserve the cruel remarks he had lashed at him.

Perhaps his intent had been to apologize to Ignotus. The child could not have gone to the north to fight the previous summer – even Cadmus had known that – but that was still no reason to chastise his bravery and courage, when he thought about it rationally. He was young and hot tempered, and he had not seen Corvus die, but one day he would go into battle and he did not need Cadmus's snarling comments in the back of his brain when he did.

Only, he couldn't bring himself to apologize once he had approached them.

There was something in Antioch's stance and haughtiness, the way he held his head with his chin tilted back and the flash of fire in his eyes, which stopped Cadmus from making amends and only fueled the middle brother's temper. The oldest Peverell brother clearly had the youngest under his wing, and Cadmus was left out.

As always.

It was no secret that Antioch cared more for Ignotus – he always had. And most unfortunately, Cadmus had overheard his father that day, only a couple of months prior, talking to Antioch before the duel with Athol.

_"I will not send my eldest on such a deadly errand, for one of the duelers will most definitely lose everything. I did not even wish you as an outlying warrior, seeing as you must carry on our family name._ I _have offered my services to Tearlach, and I shall accept this challenge. You, however, must remember your mother, and your brothers. Ignotus is still a boy. He will need your guidance, if perchance I fail. Cadmus is not up to such a task, and I rather believe Ignotus likes you best out of his choices. He looks up to you,Antioch. He would be devastated if I returned to tell him you had been killed."_

How those words had stung at his pride. His father liked _Antioch_ the best, and always had. Corvus had not wished for _Antioch_ to accept the deadly errand; he didn't want _Antioch_ to be one of the famous outlying warriors that dueled so fiercely. _Antioch_ would carry on the family name, _Antioch_ must care for their poor mother; _Antioch_ must guide _Ignotus's_ steps henceforth. _Ignotus_ even liked _Antioch_ best.

Corvus had not believed that _Cadmus_ was up to the tasks that _Antioch_ would accept from that day forward.

A bitter hatred had filled his body when he heard their conversation. It was like poison, and it had flowed through his veins and burned away other emotions. He hated his father for his blatant favoritism, he hated Antioch for being so damned perfect, and he hated Ignotus for being such a child.

And so, today, when he had gone to speak to them, his anger flared when Antioch had been so haughty, and he took it out on Ignotus, who didn't deserve Cadmus's temper. But it didn't matter now; what was done, was done.

He took a slow, deep breath. He had managed to cast the counter-hex to Antioch's silly, childish curse, but despite this, he was in no mood to talk.

Instead, Cadmus glanced at the object in his hand – a small, smooth, black stone. It fit so neatly between his fingers, as though it had been made especially for him. But he shivered to think where it had come from.

That day – that horrid, awful day – the day he had witnessed his father's death. When the others had tried to restrain him when his father had fallen. He had fought against them, because, despite the fact that he knew Corvus preferred Antioch, and no matter how distraught his father had made him feel, Cadmus still felt as though something important had been ripped from him. Corvus had been their family's patriarch and lifeline, and in a fluttering heartbeat, he was no more.

By the time he'd managed to break free from the Findlay warriors and drop to his father's side, it was no use in attempting to cast healing spells. Cadmus blamed Antioch for this, because Antioch had been nearest to Corvus when the duel took place. But instead of trying to save his father after Athol's strange spell, Antioch had started to _fight_.

Another surge of hatred had filled Cadmus, but not towards Athol. How _could_ Antioch have not tried to save their father? How could he have simply started dueling, as though trying to destroy Corvus's memory?

And yet, when Cadmus dropped beside the body, the blood on the rocks seeping unpleasantly and strangely through his breeches and against his skin, he'd looked into the blank, unseeing eyes and he had panicked.

He'd shaken the corpse and screamed at it to wake, but nothing worked. Antioch, furious, had demanded that Cadmus be restrained. And as he was pulled away from the body, his hand had clung to Corvus's lifeless one for just a second longer. When he finally was forced to release Corvus's hand, only one thing remained in Cadmus's – a small black stone. Corvus had clutched at the ground as the last bit of life fled him, and the stone had been between his fingers from his feeble attempt to cling to life.

Cadmus took a slow breath to calm himself. Antioch had failed to save their father's life on the battlefield, but Cadmus would not fail his father now. He would resurrect him from the grave, and bring him back to life. He would conquer his true enemy – Death itself. When his father returned from beyond, he would be glad to know Cadmus had put such effort into the endeavourer, and Antioch would be chastised for his foolishness and temper. Cadmus would receive the highest honors from his father, as he'd always desired. And the key was this stone.

As it had been the last thing his father had clutched at, it was perfect for what Cadmus wanted to accomplish. Because, to bring back the dead, a spell would not suffice. There had to be a tangible representation to accomplish the goal. And the tangible representation would be the stone itself – the stone taken from the grip of a dead man. He would embed the stone with spells derived from the reversal branch of magic, and if he did it right, he would be able to call the dead back to the land of the living.

Cadmus turned from the window and slowly trod the familiar path back to Ravenclaw's Tower. He might as well complete some additional research, as his brothers did not desire his company, but he was trying to avoid the library, because Cearo had taken to haunting him there. It wasn't that he disliked Cearo – quite the contrary. She had been his for a long time, and he did care for her. But she was currently a nagging irritation and not at all helpful to his studies. He needed to focus, and he didn't want to be bothered by any other emotions, such as lust and desire. Whenever she was around, he had to forcibly restrain himself from dragging her off somewhere to make love to her. He could not afford such distractions until after he completed his spell work on the stone.

But most unfortunately, when he reached Ravenclaw Tower, he discovered Cearo was sitting on the steps that lead to the door. He tensed when he saw her, and stopped short, wondering if he could escape. Then it occurred to him that she had likely been waiting there all morning, since breakfast, knowing he would at some point leave the tower and return to it. She looked up, saw him, and he scowled. It was no use running away now. He tried to brush past her, intent on reaching the sanctity of the dormitory, but to his annoyance, she would not be deterred.

Rising and grasping at his sleeve quickly, she begged, "What have I done to lose such favor? Only a few weeks ago, you were elated to see me again!"

He rounded on her in irritation. "Yes, but now I have work to do, and I cannot do it if you are distracting me! I have told you this many times, yet you do not listen, it seems!"

Her eyes shimmered with tears and she drew back, obviously hurt. "Am I such a distraction, Cadmus?"

The tremor in her voice annoyed him, and he turned to face her, frowning. "At the moment, yes, you _are_ a distraction. I promise you; when I have finished the project that I have accepted as my challenge, then I shall have time again for you. You should also focus on your own project, Cearo."

For a moment, it looked as though she would burst into tears, but to his surprise, she didn't. Instead, she roused herself to stand taller, and said, "But be that as it may, Cadmus. But I _cannot_ focus on my project, for I have something important to tell you, whether you wish to hear it or not. Something that regards _us_." There was suddenly a strange determination in her eyes that he had never seen before.

Twisting her fingers and looking nervous, she plunged on, "I am with child, Cadmus. _Our_ child. And I am not lying, because there is a sign to tell a woman when such a thing is true."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not weave, and so I do not know the parts of a loom or how it works very well. Bear with me! Also, I decided not to change my original thoughts on the Demiguise for the story. I wrote it before "Fantastic Beasts" became a movie, and I had a specific idea for what a Demiguise looked like when I started this fanfiction back in 2008. It's not that I don't love the "Fantastic Beasts" movie, but too much would have to change for me to incorporate the design of the Demiguise from the movie into this story.
> 
> ~BD

****

## Teacher and Student

****

For several nights, Ignotus had carefully been watching Callisto as she sat at her loom, weaving. His conversation with Godric a few days earlier repeated itself constantly in his brain: if he wanted to create a cloak from Demiguise hair, he would have to learn to weave. He would have to ask Callisto to be his tutor.

After a couple of evenings, he discovered that he was quite mesmerized by the flying shuttle and the interlocking threads, and how the whole apparatus created a single sheet of woolen, warm fabric. It was far more complicated than he'd ever imagined. And while others around him studied for their projects, tested each other on different spells or attacks, or wrote essays on Potions and Charms lessons, his attention consistently drifted to the beautiful young girl who meticulously guided several hundred threads into one solid object.

Ross had caught him staring at least five times, if not more. The first couple of times the Muggle-born wizard had merely given his closest friend a strange, confused look. Ignotus had flushed upon the realization that his feelings towards Callisto were so blatantly obvious, and he'd returned to scribbling down notes on his project to avoid Ross's dark, narrowed eyes.

By the third time, Ross took it upon himself to question Ignotus about the course of his gaze. And after a few desperate seconds, in which he tried (and failed) to find the right words, Ignotus had finally managed to explain that Master Godric had merely suggested he enlist Callisto's assistance with his project, and that he wasn't certain how to go about asking her help. At this, Ross had rolled his eyes and returned to his own work, scowling heavily. He still believed that Ignotus was studying a worthless subject.

By the fifth time Ross had caught Ignotus staring, he'd demanded to know if Ignotus _fancied_ Callisto Stewart.

Ross was too close to the truth; so naturally, Ignotus lied and insisted he wasn't.

But it still didn't stop him from sneaking covert glances when he was supposed to be doing his studies, or even in class when he was supposed to be listening to the Founders' lectures.

The simple truth was, he had no idea _how_ to go about asking Callisto if she would consider assisting him in his endeavor. She was so quiet and studious herself that she hadn't seemed to notice his constant gaze (which was a minor relief, he supposed), and he knew she was working hard on her own project.

He certainly knew that he didn't want to confront her whilst everyone was in the common room, because then the other students would overhear his conversation. On the other hand, it was much more difficult than he'd imagined to get her on her own. Despite the fact that castle was huge, Callisto always seemed to be with her closest friend, Cantrella. If he stopped her while she was with Cantrella, it was possible that Cantrella would tell someone else, and that person would tell someone else. And before the evening was out, the entire school would know he was speaking privately with Callisto Stewart. It was only a small leap as to what they would be saying after _that_. He didn't want people whispering about him the way they did about Cadmus and Cearo.

The entire conflict was so agonizing that he skipped dinner entirely one evening and trudged back up to the tower, desperately trying to think of some way to approach Callisto without being ridiculed or talked over.

But to his surprise, when the portrait opened, he discovered that Callisto wasn't at dinner with everyone else either, and furthermore, she was the only person in the tower.

She was sitting at her loom as usual, the shuttle flying back and forth unheeded, as she poured over a thick book. He watched as her slender finger ran lightly down the page while she skimmed the words, her head tilted to one side so that her long, wavy curls were falling over her arm. The fire guttered in the grate, sending an odd, dark light over her pretty features. Ignotus froze, watching her without breathing for a couple of seconds, as she shifted the heavy book on her lap and turned a page. The movement made the dim light shimmer off of her long hair, catching strands of rich auburn scattered throughout so that they seemed to shine like fire. Her brow furrowed as she continued to read, and she idly tucked a curl behind her ear before replacing her finger upon the page and following the text again.

Quite suddenly, his heart began to pound again, loud and hard against his ribs. Afraid that she might hear it, he quickly stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the thick rugs on the stone floor. Still, she was apparently very absorbed, because she did not notice him until he was right beside her, and he had to cough slightly to get her attention.

Startled, Callisto jumped and nearly closed the book. "Ignotus! I didn't even hear you!"

"I am sorry. You seemed so intent upon your reading. I didn't want to startle you." Then, trying to think of something intellectual to say to make up for his blundering, he added nervously, "How is your research coming?"

"Fair. It could be better," she sighed as she reopened her book, "but the types of spells I seek to learn are difficult to find. Most of the books in our library do not cover such branches of magic, and –"

Surprised, he interrupted, "Healing spells? I would have thought the library would contain much information on such things."

Her expression became frustrated, if not a bit closed, and she turned her eyes to watch the shuttle. "Oh, the library does contain information on the _basic_ healing arts. But I wish to learn how to counteract the effects of exceptionally Dark curses, and treat severe magical injuries sustained on the battlefield. Such spells are much more difficult to locate, because they are often self-created and therefore guarded jealously by those who patented them. Master Godric has offered to contact several witches and wizards whom have self-created such magic that will heal those who have been devastatingly injured. Then I must learn the spells myself."

He wondered why Callisto Stewart would need to learn how to treat such horrible magical injuries, but he could formulate no plausible reasons. He frowned slightly, decided not to ask, and instead murmured, "Such a task sounds extremely difficult."

Callisto nodded and looked back at the book she held. When Ignotus followed her gaze, he realized the text was written in Latin. He knew the language well enough, but upside-down, he could not make the words out at all, for it was minutely small and cramped. He wondered if the entire book was written thus, and was grateful the books he had selected were not so difficult.

"What of you?" she asked, bringing him out of these thoughts. "How goes your own research?"

He shifted, tearing his eyes away from the book. "I have exhausted all of the books in the library on invisibility. But my project will be a daunting task, I fear." He glanced at the flying shuttle on the loom. Black and tan threads created a subtle pattern in the fabric, and the motion was almost blinding as they shifted and became one piece. How was he ever to learn this art?

"What is your project?"

Biting his lip slightly, and still watching the threads on the loom, he said, "Have you ever heard of a beast called the Demiguise?"

She shook her head in the negative. This did not surprise him, for he had not expected her to know of such an animal; he had not until he had researched it, after all.

"It is an creature that lives in the Far East, but a gentle one," he explained. "In fact, it is so gentle and passive that it fears both predators and humans alike. Such an animal is in great need of an excellent defense, and so it has one – its very coat can become utterly invisible to everything. Apparently, only skilled wizards can track and capture the Demiguise, and that makes their pelts one of the most valued magical objects in our world. The pelts can be made into a cloak which would render the wearer invisible, and they are extremely rare and prized."

Her expression was unreadable, but after a moment, she asked, "So then, you will make a cloak that will render you invisible, for your project?"

Ignotus nodded nervously. "Or rather, at the least, I intend to try. Master Godric has informed me that I would need to use extensive magic. The very, very few cloaks that have been made thus far, mostly by Chinese artists, will lose, or have lost, their effectiveness as the decades pass. Perhaps this is to ensure a constant demand... I'm afraid I don't know, and can only speculate. But to complete my challenge, my cloak will need to stand the ultimate test of time: it must last centuries instead of mere decades. And before I can begin the spell work, I must first make the cloak from the hair of a Demiguise pelt."

"And to make a cloak," she murmured, her eyes shifting towards the threads that were weaving themselves before her, "You will need a loom."

For a brief moment, Ignotus thought that she looked saddened by this realization. Her shoulders had slumped and she sighed. Unable to see her thus, he said quickly, "I know you are very busy yourself, Miss Stewart. It was Master Godric who suggested I ask for your assistance. If you could possibly teach me how to use a loom, I will weave my own cloak. I've no idea how to even use such an object. It looks complicated and confusing. However, if you do not have the time, then I will completely understand."

Her mouth turned up just slightly, though the expression in her eyes remained sad. "I can show you how to weave, Ignotus," she said. "The art is indeed rather tedious and difficult, and you must keep that in mind if you are to try. I am nearly finished with this piece of fabric; once it is done, you may begin on a practice piece. You must first attempt the art with regular threads. Otherwise, you will fail when you attempt to weave the Demiguise hair."

Before he could thank her profusely, or ask questions about the art, she closed her book and placed it on the floor beside her chair, rose to her feet, and said, "Now is as good a time as any to begin, for you can watch as I finish this piece. I assume you will pay close attention?" She gave him a pretty smile that made him forget the sad expression she had worn only moments before.

"Of course," he promised, quickly drawing a chair up beside her.

He became so absorbed in learning as she carefully explained each part of the loom, each section of the apparatus, and how it all worked as a whole to create a bolt of cloth, that he did not even notice the other students returning from dinner, nor the smirks and nods that took place when all saw the youngest Peverell brother sitting a bit closer than necessary to Callisto.

**oOo**

"Blast!"

Ignotus snarled and waved his wand at the shuttle; it immediately came to a clattering halt in a mess of tangled threads.

On the floor beside him, Callisto did not even look up from her book. "You were directing it too quickly, again. You must be patient, Ignotus. Weaving takes time."

"I know, but...!"

He glowered at the miniscule bit of cloth he had managed thus far, his temper struggling against his attempts to contain it. His work was incredibly feeble and insignificant when compared to the neat bolt of black and tan propped against the wall, and worse, it looked such. Some of his threads did not match exactly, while others did not fit snugly against each other, allowing him to see little chinks of light through his work. He was extremely frustrated; for he had never had this sort of trouble with anything he tried his hand at.

"Untangle the threads and begin again."

He could hear the amusement in Callisto's voice, and he flushed bright pink. Fingers clenched, he sullenly directed his wand at the knot of tangled red and gold threads. They were twisted worse than usual, it appeared. But then, ever since Callisto had let him behind her loom, knots seemed to be his lot in life.

Worse, she hardly bothered to look up at his work most of the time. Somehow, she could continue reading about healing spells, or do her Potions homework, or write essays, and yet always know _exactly_ what Ignotus had done wrong each time.

And he had _so_ been hoping that the process would go much faster than it was! The threads twisted and tangled worse as he jabbed his wand a bit harder than necessary at them in his anger. He still had spells to research, for he would need to imbibe his cloak with as much magic as possible, and he still needed to tap the "hidden magic" that Master Godric had so cryptically hinted at during their conversations. He had no idea how on earth he would manage _that_ , when he didn't even know what this strange, hidden magic _was_. Godric had claimed it was the magic that moved the universe, but Ignotus's brain felt wrung out every time he even _tried_ to comprehend such a thing. Such magic was beyond any mortal, wasn't it?

The knot finally worked itself out, and he sighed heavily as he rearranged the threads properly. Then, scowling at his work, he began once more, though much more slowly this time, because he was sick and tired of making mistakes.

In truth, the loom was really teaching him much about himself rather than about the art of weaving, he decided. So far, he had learned that he was definitely not the most patient person in the world – a trait in his personality that his mother had often commented on with frustration, that his father had often become exasperated with him about; that Antioch had more than once requested he pay attention to and attempt to correct, and that Cadmus had rolled his eyes at whenever he had the chance.

Ignotus was also learning that perhaps he worked far too quickly on _everything_ , from Defense to Charms to Shuntbumps. While his lack of patience had been pointed out to him countless times, he had never before considered that he worked too fast. But during the past week, each time he sat down at the loom, he found he was nearly destroying the threads, simply because he was working so fast that the knots formed almost instantly. If he was doing such shoddy work on the loom, simply weaving threads into fabric, what had he missed in working too fast on other things? The thought worried him.

On the other hand, he had learned that Callisto was infinitely more patient than he was. For one thing, she did not become angry at his repeated mistakes, his occasional swearing and oaths, nor his frustration at the tediousness of such a project. She merely corrected him in her gentle, unobtrusive way, and continued her own work. He had also started to notice that, during class, she was usually the last to turn in a written exam – not because she didn't finish timely, but because she re-read her work before handing it in. She also thought about her answers when asked a question by one of the Founders, and as such, her responses were well explained. Ignotus had caught himself blurting answers once or twice, and in shame, he had tried to correct his thoughtlessness by not being so determined to speak up.

So irritating was the entire process, and all that he was now being forced to think about, that during the past week, he had rarely even felt the pleasant flip of his stomach whenever he looked at Callisto's beautiful, long hair with its auburn-brown waves and curls, or her deep brown eyes and smooth skin. He had also been neglecting his friends, though Ross stopped by occasionally as Ignotus struggled on the loom, usually to either offer some jibe at Ignotus's expense, or to seriously ask how Ignotus was doing. He hadn't seen Cadmus or Antioch at all, and he hadn't been paying much attention to his regular lessons, because he was constantly trying to think of new ways to approach the enormous difficulty of what he had selected to do.

The shuttle crept at a snail's pace across the threads, and Ignotus felt strange satisfaction at seeing it moving so ridiculously slow. But if that was what it would take, then so be it. He'd get the infernal threads into a single piece of fabric if it were the last thing he did.

Beside him, Callisto suddenly laughed. " _Heavens_ , Ignotus! Faster than that, I'm afraid! If you move too slowly, you won't finish your test fabric, let alone the Demiguise pelt!"

He turned and frowned at her. "I do not understand! You make it move almost blindingly fast whenever you sit here, and despite that, you never get tangles in the threads! How is that?"

With a slightly smug expression, she replied, "Because I've been weaving since I was four years old, Ignotus. You started weaving but a week ago."

She was right, of course. Feeling sulky, he sighed and glared at the shuttle, mentally demanding that it behave for him this time, and he sped it up per Callisto's instruction.

Unfortunately, it did _not_ behave. Five minutes later, when he thought that perhaps he had _finally_ gotten the hang of it, it locked up in another fierce tangle of knots. Ignotus swore furiously at it – worse than usual, in fact – _just_ as the portrait opened and Master Godric entered the common room.

Godric's mouth quirked into a smile as he caught the violent oath. " _Ah_ , yes. I see we still have a long way to go, Ignotus."

The other students scattered about the common room sniggered at this exchange.

Ignotus's shoulders slumped. "I am starting to feel that I've selected a hopeless challenge," he complained, glancing up to glare at the rest of his mates while waving his wand at the threads so sharply that the knot tightened instead of loosened.

Before he could swear again at his additional mistake, Callisto rose quickly to her feet and took over for him, gently moving the threads back to their original positions with careful practice and slow wand movements that made Ignotus's own attempt look even clumsier than ever.

Godric, however, merely smiled as he looked at the bit of fabric his pupil had managed thus far. He mused, "But you are doing better than when you first started."

"Ha! Only a little, and not nearly as well as I should be! If learning to weave takes up all of my time, then I cannot research the spells I will need to place upon the fabric itself!"

Thoughtfully, Callisto said, "Perhaps that is the problem. Your mind is elsewhere, thinking of spells to research. Perhaps you should focus more on weaving right now, and worry about the spells later, Ignotus."

Ignotus opened his mouth to argue, but Godric cut him off with a slightly sharp, scolding voice. "Miss Stewart is right, Ignotus. And it will do you no good to spar verbally with your teacher in this endeavor. Why not try closing your eyes and releasing all of your frustration, all of your worries and concerns, and simply focus directly on the task at hand? One thing at a time, you know. You have all winter to research spells."

Remembering again that he always worked too fast, and that someone was always reminding him of it – and, furthermore, that this was a prime example! – Ignotus merely nodded and sat back down at his chair, sulky that both a classmate and his Founder had rebuked him. And worse, because his temper was far too easily set off. They were only trying to help, after all.

"Before you resume your attempts," Godric went on, more cheerfully, "I bring you good tidings." He held out a neatly folded parchment. It had been sealed, but the wax was broken, indicating that Godric had already read the missive.

Ignotus took it curiously, wondering if it were from his mother. But upon opening it, he discovered it was from someone he had never heard of – a person named Narantsetseg. There was no surname, which seemed unusual. The writing was also difficult to make out; whoever had written the letter had written it in a different language, and it had clearly been charmed to Latin. As a result, it appeared there were some minor translation errors.

Master Godric seemed amused as Ignotus attempted to decipher the sharp quill markings, and finally said, "It took me some time to make it out, as well. So I shall tell you what it says; otherwise, we will be here all night. Narantsetseg is a Mongolian witch that one of my many contacts directed me to in your quest for a Demiguise pelt. She is one who seeks these creatures for their incredible hides."

Startled, Ignotus said, "She?"

His Founder laughed. "Really, Ignotus! Here at Hogwarts, there are two highly talented witches – the most incredible in all of the Isles! – and you wonder that a woman could track the elusive Demiguise?"

"No, sir! I didn't mean...!"

"As I understand it, Narantsetseg is one of the most talented Demiguise hunters in all of her land. She brings in an average of one pelt per year!"

It took a few seconds for this statement to sink in.

Then, it slowly did. As if someone had punched him in the gut, he lost his breath for a moment. For a moment, all he could do was open his mouth and stutter, his expression horrified. Finally, what he was trying to say burst out from him in sheer disbelief and panic.

" _One_? One pelt every _year_?"

Heaven _help_ him – if a Demiguise pelt was so exceedingly rare, how on earth could he procure even _one_? He had known they weren't common, but _this_...

Godric's eyebrows lifted up his forehead. "Yes, most who make this their profession only bring in one pelt every two or three years. Narantsetseg has a natural talent for what she does."

"But… How do these hunters _survive_? With only one pelt every few years? Do they have other professions in which to make their livelihood?" Ignotus cried.

Godric laughed. "Of course they don't! Demiguise hunters devote themselves solely to this one task, and nothing more. It is an excruciatingly difficult life, for tracking one of these creatures takes months. The Demiguise does not live in packs or tribes, but rather as individuals, which makes them even harder to locate. Furthermore, it is suspected that the species is somewhat endangered, though to what extent, no one knows. Narantsetseg has given us a little additional information and I confess, I find it fascinating. The Demiguise only breeds once every twenty years, from the knowledge the Mongolians and Chinese have – which, unfortunately, is very, very little – so it could be wrong. But the creatures are suspected to have only one offspring each time, and it takes some fifteen years for an infant to reach full maturity, if their calculations are correct. They are known for their excellence at Arithmancy and Astrology, so I assume they are fairly close to the truth. The witches and wizards who hunt these animals go through extensive training with a master to see them. Or rather, they're actually trained to look for the faint tracks, broken branches or bushes, and possibly unusual blimps in the air, which gives the Demiguise's location away. Still, to catch one takes years of practice and devotion."

"But," Ignotus pressed weakly, "If they only catch one every five years, how on earth do they survive?"

Master Godric's smile deepened to his eyes. "The price for even one pelt is so great that a person can survive for ten years, easily, and never have to lift a finger. But the training to hunt the animals is so tedious and difficult, and true masters – like Narantsetseg – will hunt for them regardless of their fortune. And they rarely take on an apprentice unless one shows aptitude far beyond normal magical training. It is a highly prized profession. There are currently only three Demiguise hunters in all of Mongolia and China combined."

A strange dread was filling Ignotus's chest, and after a moment, he finally whispered, "So then... If all of this is true, how much will it cost me to purchase such a pelt? Sir?"

"Twenty-seven thousand Galleons."

For a brief second, Ignotus felt his world slipping out from beneath him.

Godric saw his expression and said sternly, "That is Narantsetseg's price. It is not negotiable. She made that quite clear in her correspondence."

Ignotus's throat felt dry and parched; he swallowed a couple of times as he tried desperately to justify spending such a huge fortune for his project. Callisto's masked expression did not help either – he couldn't tell what she was thinking, because her eyes were so blank. Did she believe him to be insane? He wouldn't be surprised. Was she repulsed that he would dare to spend such gold on a mere school project? Or did she not have any opinion on the matter, which was even worse? He felt clammy; he didn't want her to think ill of him.

Godric's voice abruptly brought Ignotus from his thoughts of Callisto.

"What is most important," he said sharply, "is the fact that Narantsetseg has a pelt currently in her possession for purchase; the other hunters do not. So I'm afraid your choice is extremely limited. She also requires an answer quickly. Demiguise pelts rarely remain in her possession for more than a couple of weeks. Many desire such a prize. However, because the situation in Mongolia and China is, at present, so dangerous, with many wizards fighting against each other, she has agreed to sell it to you, as her usual buyers are currently thoroughly involved in the war and she does not wish to deal with either of them."

Ignotus turned to stare hopelessly at the threads on the loom – his feeble, silly attempt to create a piece of fabric – and wondered if he would even be able to weave the Demiguise pelt once he had it. Or would he have lost a huge portion of his fortune for absolutely nothing? His stomach writhed into knots at the very thought.

And as though Godric had read his mind, the man quietly said, "If you desire, I will allow you to change your project, Ignotus. It is a huge sum for a single object, and the challenge before you is exceedingly difficult."

Unbidden, the thought rose to his mind that, if he were to change his challenge and give up so easily, he would be branded a coward. He could just imagine Cadmus's sneering remarks if his brother found out he had changed his project at this point in the game, or Antioch's disappointment. He gritted his teeth. He would _not_ be called a coward.

Straightening his back and steeling his expression, Ignotus said firmly, "No, sir. I will not change my project. Please send a response to Narantsetseg informing her that I will purchase the pelt. And I will visit the owlery tomorrow morning and send a letter to the goblins as well, reserving the amount from my vault for this woman, so that she may withdraw it directly."

But Godric shook his head. "Unfortunately, the goblins will not accept a letter for so large an amount. You will have to visit them in person; otherwise, they will believe it an attempt at theft. And it would be exceedingly unwise to anger the goblins _or_ Narantsetseg. I will accompany you tomorrow, after classes, to the River Thames. We will Apparate there and back; it will be much faster."

Ignotus forced himself to nod in response.

"Now, I will leave you to your work. Remember – patience is the key to this puzzle. And, Miss Stewart, whilst I am here, will you allow me to inquire how your own research is progressing?"

"Fair, sir. I have heard from Pegasus Harlequet. He is willing to divulge his variation of the Blood Replenishing Spell in exchange for my silence. I will be allowed to use it if necessary, but I cannot tell anyone the secret. He would prefer that I make an Unbreakable Vow to seal the agreement, but I clearly do not wish to do _that_. I was hoping you would speak to him on my behalf to see if he would part with the information for a less drastic course of action. It is frustrating, but not unexpected."

Godric's eyes flashed, and he said quietly, "I will contact him personally to discuss the matter. Let me know if he presents any other, unforeseen difficulties. And keep up the good work, both of you."

Ignotus found he could not nod in response this time, and instead glanced back at the loom. His work looked far from good, and the strange, unpleasant, wriggling, worming sensation was winding its way from his stomach to his throat. He wondered if he would vomit.

He had just spent twenty-seven thousand Galleons – a huge portion of his inheritance – on a Demiguise pelt that he wasn't even certain he could weave into a cloak.

**oOo**

The exchange at the River Thames went as well as could be expected. Ignotus had never cared much for goblins, and their utter indifference was unnerving. But the transfer was arranged without much problem, and would take place the following week; twenty-seven thousand Galleons from Ignotus Peverell's vault miles beneath the surface of the earth would be sent to Narantsetseg.

The worst part about the whole thing was that, inevitably, Cadmus and Antioch discovered what he had done.

But to Ignotus's surprise, Antioch did not seem overly concerned about the enormous price his brother had paid to continue his challenge; in fact, he actually agreed to help Ignotus invest his remaining fortune over Yule, so that what was left would garner more interest and quickly rebuild itself. He was not nearly as concerned that it would continue to dwindle, as Ignotus was.

Cadmus, on the other hand, was appalled at what Ignotus had done, and made no secret about the fact that he thought his younger brother had lost his mind. He seemed quite amused at the possibility of his younger brother becoming penniless.

Meanwhile, Yule was drawing nearer and nearer, and Ignotus _finally_ managed to stop fretting over spell work, and was instead focusing all of his efforts into weaving fabric and learning the skills necessary to complete the next step of his challenge.

At least he was getting _better_ at weaving, which was promising. Callisto had complimented him several times, indicating the portions of his test fabric that were exceptional, while giving him advice on the parts that were shoddier than the rest. He forced himself to humbly accept the advice – after all, she was more experienced and knew all the secrets of weaving. As he listened quietly to her suggestions, he found he was becoming slightly more patient.

The week before Christmas, he was able to finish his test fabric completely, and four entire days had passed without the first tangled knot in the fabric. Callisto was ecstatic that he had managed to succeed in such a short amount of time, and reminded him that he must not get impatient with the Demiguise pelt once he received it.

He had wondered, many times, how Narantsetseg would send the pelt – surely something so ridiculously expensive would be brought to him in person. But Godric had assured him that he need not worry, for he intended to meet Narantsetseg and obtain the pelt himself. Ignotus could do nothing more than trust his Founder and wait.

Callisto sternly reminded him that he had other things to worry about, anyways. Though he had successfully completed his test fabric, he would need to continue practicing over the holiday. He promised he would, for there were looms at Peverell Fortress, and she further informed him that she fully intended on testing him once he returned for winter term. He would need to show her that he could weave an entire fabric without mistakes, excessive knots and tangles, or shoddy workmanship before he started on the Demiguise pelt, and she admitted that the short length of time in which he had been forced to learn the trade was against him. She also stated that, if she did _not_ give him such a goal to work towards, he would spend the entire holiday reading up on spells instead of mastering that which he needed to master first.

Her expression had been so fierce and stern that Ignotus had been unable to do anything but sheepishly promise that he would be prepared to meet her challenge upon his return to Hogwarts.

He wished he would have time to review invisibility spells, though. He knew that his brothers had already started on their projects – Antioch had taken an evening to travel to some unknown part of the land just as the first snow was falling, though no one but Salazar and Serpentina knew where he had disappeared to, and neither had any intention of telling anyone, either. Cadmus actually had the audacity to demand that Serpentina divulge the information, but she had merely wrinkled her lip in disgust and sneered haughtily. If Antioch had wished for Cadmus to know, she'd said scathingly, then he would have told his brother himself.

Antioch never did tell Cadmus, but he did tell Ignotus of his venture a few days after his return. He had traveled near Peverell Fortress, to a desolate wizarding necropolis that housed the dead of the Peverell clan from the previous eight centuries. Ignotus had never been there himself, having never had the desire to see the cracked, moss-covered gravestones and vaults. But Antioch explained to him that all wands were created from woods that had special magic in their own right. Apparently, _where_ each wand-wood tree _grew_ had a great deal to do with how a wand _behaved_ – Ignotus's own wand (according to the information Antioch had obtained from Ollivander, who had made all three brothers' wands when they turned ten years of age) had been created from a solitary oak tree in the middle of a desolate moor. Oak, Antioch had explained, was typically a stubborn, heavy wood, and Ignotus's wand was even more so than other oak wands, because of the wand-tree's location. It had grown strong and sturdy in a harsh place, all alone, and therefore, it was slightly cantankerous. And because Ignotus himself was so stubborn, the wand and the wielder were a perfect match.

Ignotus had listened, for the most part, in stunned surprise. He had never considered that such time and thought went into wand making, but when Antioch had explained it, it made perfect sense. Wands were created from specific trees and cores, and the combination would eventually match itself to the perfect wizard or witch. He wondered if this were the sort of hidden magic his Founder had tried to explain.

Antioch had used this unusual knowledge to select a tree in the very graveyard where their ancestors rested – a twisted, gnarled, ancient Ellhorn tree whose roots had cracked the graves and surrounding ground terribly. Ignotus thought it quite morbid that Antioch should select such a tree, even though his brother had explained that this tree would create a wand completely engrained with death.

Ignotus had refrained from commenting that he was starting to wonder if his eldest brother was as insane as the middle.

For Cadmus was definitely insane – and all of Hogwarts had secretly been whispering about it for the past few weeks. Cearo had left for Christmas earlier than the rest of the students, because she hadn't been feeling well and felt it would be best to return to her home and rest. Most everyone agreed that she was suffering from a broken heart, because Cadmus had been ignoring her in favor of his challenge. He had supposedly finished studying about Reverse Spell Effects, though he told no one of what his research had uncovered. According to the students of Mistress Rowena, he could be seen in various places, testing certain spells. And while in their tower, it was claimed that he was always turning a small black stone over and over in his fingers, prodding it with his wand and muttering to it. He was mad, the students of Ravenclaw believed.

Ignotus asked Antioch about the strange black stone Cadmus allegedly possessed, but Antioch had no knowledge of it at all. Nor would it do any good to ask Cadmus directly; he wasn't exactly on speaking terms with either of his brothers at the moment, ever since Antioch had rebuked him on the grounds. It was all very vexing, but Ignotus tried desperately not to think on it, because he had more important things to worry about. And besides, Antioch claimed it was his task to care for his brothers, not Ignotus's.

He was almost grateful when the holidays finally arrived, for the hustle and bustle of packing his truck and having one of the house elves magic it back to Peverell Fortress, and saying goodbye to all of his friends, at least took his mind briefly off of Cadmus.

He clasped hands with all of the young men under Godric's tutelage as they gathered their things to depart, and wished them well during the holiday. Some of his classmates were meeting siblings at the steps of the castle and would Apparate just beyond the protective boundaries, while a few of the younger students would meet a parent or a steward in Hogsmeade to travel back to their castles, manors, and cottages. Ross wished him a good Yule, for he was leaving to meet his foster parents within the next hour, and as Ignotus left through the portrait hole, Cantrella passed him and offered her tidings for a pleasant Christmas in her haughty way.

However, when Ignotus arrived at the marble staircase, he met the one person he was truly hoping to meet before leaving: Callisto. She was on her way up the marble stairs, and she paused at the landing to wish him a Merry Christmas, while also reminding him to practice his weaving during the break. The brief moment in which she touched his hand left him with the wonderful sensation of goose bumps skating up his arm, and he barely managed to wish her a happy Christmas as well. Then, before he quite realized it, she had risen to her toes and brushed parched lips quickly to his cheek.

Utterly stunned, it was several moments before he realized she had said goodbye and left him standing there like a statue. Touching his cheek to see if it might actually burn his fingertips, he quickly turned and scanned the corridor. She was now a floor above, walking along the passage to another set of stairs that would take her away from the moving staircases in the center of the castle and off towards Gryffindor's Tower. He started after her, determined to request a _real_ goodbye kiss – only to have Cadmus round the corner unexpectedly, grab his arm, and snarl that he needed to be outside already and to stop _dawdling_ , for heaven's sake!

Furious, and under protest, Ignotus allowed Cadmus to drag him down to the entrance hall. Just before he was thrust unceremoniously out of the oak doors, he glanced up at the banisters three floors above and saw Callisto leaning against the railing. She smiled shyly and waved at him, and he quickly waved back, knowing he must look a complete sop.

He didn't have any time to reflect, however. Cadmus shoved him out into the cold and they glared at each other all the way down the steps and the sweeping lawns. But as they crossed the grounds, Ignotus suddenly realized that Callisto had not been wearing a cloak, nor did she look ready to depart. His brow furrowed in confusion. She had once told him that she lived with her uncle during the holidays; he wondered if she was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. He couldn't imagine that she would be. Perhaps she was Apparating later than the others.

It was only once that they were outside the protective spells that surrounded the castle that Ignotus forced himself to focus. He would need all of his faculties about him to Apparate to Peverell Fortress, for it would not do to splinch himself.

Antioch was waiting on the trail that led to Hogsmeade, and as soon as Cadmus and Ignotus came within view, he glanced at both of his younger brothers, his expression stern. Cadmus stopped and glared back, and Ignotus shifted his cloak closer about him.

Satisfied that he had their attention, the eldest brother nodded once, and Ignotus took a deep breath before he twisted into the suffocating compression of Apparation.

When the ringing in his ears ceased and he opened his eyes, the gigantic castle he called home towered above him, some five hundred feet away, flying the huge Peverell standard of black embossed with a gold coat of arms – a sword vertical on top of a round shield, the point of the embroidered blade reaching towards the sky. Snowflakes were scattered on the breeze, and he sighed softly.

He was home for Christmas.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of this chapter is not suitable for work, as fellow Harry Potter writer MandyinKC says. I am dealing with a teenaged boy in this story, after all. The first bit of the second part of the chapter is also not suitable for work.
> 
> ~BD

****

## Yule

****

She was standing beside his bed, her long hair around her shoulders, her breasts pert and just big enough to fill his hands perfectly. He swallowed as she stepped forward, coming to kneel on the mattress beside him. She bent closer until her lips brushed his, teasing his mouth open. The touches quickly became warm and eager; he couldn't keep his hands to himself and hastily slid his sweaty palms up the sides of her body, over her ribs and then to the soft globes that swelled into his grip. She moaned and he took the opportunity to glide his tongue along hers, tasting...

It was too much. The sensation of her hovering over him, the idea of watching her drive herself onto his cock, the very thought of her wet body quivering as she came around him...

The stickiness woke him from the dream. Ignotus suddenly realized he had bucked from the mattress and had come in the heavy quilts. Attempting to orientate himself, he made a grab for his wand, which was on the table beside his bed, only to send it clattering to the floor.

Swearing furiously, he struggled from the hot, wet bedding and snatched the wand from the flagstones, and then proceeded to clean himself and his mess.

_Bloody brilliant_ , he thought bitterly. He had been home all of one week, and already Callisto's absence in his life was wearing on his mentality.

Of course, it wasn't just his thoughts about Callisto. Nothing had gone right since the Peverell brothers returned to their home for the holidays. For starters, all hell had broken loose just two days after they arrived: Cearo Raedwald had Apparated outside of the fortress, before proceeding to stumble through the snow and over the moat bridge, towards the huge iron and oak doors. The Peverell steward, Bull Corey, had only grudgingly admitted her, for one never knew who was a friend or foe these days. She had arrived just as dinner was taking place, and upon her entrance, Cadmus had dropped his knife to his plate and knocked his goblet of wine over in his haste to rise to greet her.

Only, the first words out of his mouth weren't very welcoming, and as a natural result, Cearo had burst into blubbering tears at his harshness.

This, of _course_ , set off Antioch's temper, and there was a full minute of shouting before Quilla Peverell managed to silence her two eldest sons with a Silencio Charm, and furiously demanded answers.

Cadmus had immediately fallen silent, his face flushing a dull red, while Antioch resolutely refused to say anything additional unless Cadmus admitted the truth to his mother.

In the end, the answers came from Cearo, who – to Ignotus's shock – admitted that she was with Cadmus's child, and that her father had disowned her for this error in her judgment. She had been coldly ordered away from Raedwald Castle and told that she was never to return.

It became quite apparent that both Antioch and Cadmus had known of the news already; or, at least, they didn't appear stunned when she confessed. Quilla recovered much faster than her youngest son (who could only gape at his middle brother), and she began ordering a couple of house elves to prepare a room and a bath for the girl, and requesting Bull to fetch a healer to give an educated opinion of Cearo's condition.

But despite these courteous formalities, Quilla Peverell had rounded on Cadmus the moment Cearo and the other servants had left the room, demanding to know why he had not been more careful, and how he had not thought to ask the girl if she had cast a contraceptive charm before he had sex with her. He sullenly blamed Cearo for the entire problem, and Ignotus winced at the resulting explosion.

Unfortunately, leaving the table had not been an option, no matter how much he wished to escape the room. He could only keep his eyes diverted upon his half-eaten dinner, though the sight of his food made him even more nauseated.

In the end, Quilla gave Cadmus an ultimatum – to take responsibility for his actions, or to leave Peverell Fortress _with_ Cearo, and never return.

The tense silence that followed Quilla's statement had been so thick and oppressing that Ignotus wondered if they would all suffocate before Cadmus answered. But, finally, the middle brother muttered that he did not wish to be disowned as his lover had been, and that he would accept partial responsibility for what had happened if Cearo accepted half of the blame as well. Quilla was satisfied enough with this response, and ordered him to tend to the girl before he broke her heart, and he left the dining hall with hunched shoulders.

She had then sat down at the head of the table, looking weary and exhausted. It struck Ignotus how old she appeared. When had she grown old? His mother had always seemed so young and full of life, always laughing and smiling. An oppressing sense of dread filled him, but he said nothing, and waited silently until she finally roused herself, gave him a wan smile, and advised him that if he wished to retire to his chambers or the parlor for the evening, she would more than understand.

He had risen carefully, trying not to seem too quick and hasty about the whole thing, and bid his mother and Antioch good night, leaving them to discuss the matter further.

The next day had started out quite rough, which was really no surprise. On the upside, Cearo was not in tears when she came down to breakfast with Cadmus, though both were very quiet and only answered in monotone syllables when Quilla inquired of their health. Antioch said absolutely nothing, and Ignotus was grateful to finish eating, for it enabled him to escape to the servants' quarters of Peverell Fortress, which was where he had been spending most of his time since his return for Yule. Callisto's challenge was proving difficult, but he was glad for the distraction. Hidden away for hours at a time in the deepest recesses of Peverell Fortress, Ignotus had diligently set about to weave at least one length of fabric on the house elves' looms – two bolts, if he could manage it.

There were good and bad points to this decision. After all, there was plenty of wool to be woven, and several looms to work upon. The weaving room was in the bowels of the castle, where his mother and brothers rarely ventured, and he was left alone for the majority of the time. He could weave in peace and focus entirely upon his task, without distractions.

However, he probably shouldn't have enlisted the help of the house elves. He had requested they not tell anyone what he was doing, and in their bobbing servitude, they had suggested he speak to an elf named Mippy for advice, should he so desire it, for she was the best at weaving in the Fortress. Mippy turned out to be an ancient, wrinkled house elf that had smiled toothlessly when he'd asked her to be completely and openly honest with him about his skill. She had taken the order to heart and proceeded to inform him, every five minutes, of his precise mistakes and what he should do to rectify them, and he was certain that if he weren't one of her masters, she'd have struck him across the knuckles whenever she felt his attempts were too shoddy.

But her hovering presence served to make him more determined to weave the absolute best fabric that he could, and he knew that without Mippy, he likely wouldn't have focused nearly as closely as he needed to on the minor, yet important details. He considered requesting her presence at Hogwarts once he returned, for she would make certain he completed his challenge perfectly, but he knew he could not – such would be too close to cheating, and he would do this on his own, as he had promised Godric.

In the evenings, he devoted his time to researching various invisibility spells, and making notes on which would be best to apply to the cloak as he wove it. His notes were becoming as complex and organized as Antioch's had been, and he rather felt that Callisto would be proud of his time management. He had certainly made better use of it since arriving home than he had when he'd been at school in Gryffindor's Tower, distracted by the girl he was in love with.

Studying in the evenings had quickly become a habit for Antioch and Cadmus, too. More often than not, all three brothers were cloistered in Peverell Fortress's library, and usually close to the fireplace for warmth. There were the occasional glances of irritation between them, each believing their challenge was better than the others', but it was less frequent after Christmas passed. Quilla also spent most of her evenings in the library, reading or writing letters, and Cearo humbly claimed a chair in a corner so she could continue her work on potions as well, with the slight bump on her stomach visible through her gown.

The benefit of Cearo's constant presence was greater than Ignotus could have imagined. He had expected Cadmus to be more sullen and surly then ever, but after a few days, it proved to be exactly the opposite – somehow, Cearo and the unborn child calmed the middle Peverell brother's temper and paranoia in a way that Cearo herself had been unable to do alone, prior to the holidays. More than once, Ignotus had noticed his middle brother gazing distantly into the fire, his expression not of anger, but of thoughtfulness or sadness. He fervently hoped that this change would continue for the better and that Cadmus's demeanor would improve.

It certainly seemed to. Towards the end of the holidays, Cadmus actually deemed to speak to Antioch and Ignotus about their projects, and much more cordially than he'd done for the last few weeks.

The light within the study was dim that night, for the hour was late. All three brothers were reading. Ignotus was sitting near the fire; making notes on various spells he would need to master once he completed his cloak. Cadmus had claimed the table, though he did not seem to be as intent on his research as he had on previous evenings, and was gazing at the fire more than anything else. Antioch was ignoring both by sitting in a far corner, his quill scratching away on his parchment.

It was probably time for bed, Ignotus thought. His vision was starting to blur and he had read the same passage four times without absorbing any of the text. A yawn crept upon him and he was unable to stifle it. Stretching slightly, he closed his book and rose. But before he could turn to leave, Cadmus glanced up.

"Ignotus, wait."

Wary, Ignotus paused. "I apologize, but I am exhausted, Cadmus. If you will please excuse me –"

"Yes, yes, I understand. Your challenge is perhaps the most difficult of all of ours." There was something apologetic in his voice, and his eyes seemed slightly kinder than they had of late. "But pray, wait a moment all the same." He turned then, and added, "Antioch, I should like your opinion as well as Ignotus's. Would you be willing to give me a moment of your time as well?"

Antioch's quill stopped abruptly, and the eldest brother looked up and frowned. After a long moment, he coolly asked, "Regarding?"

"A mere idea I formulated, shortly after Cearo arrived. I should like to see it become a reality. But I will need the help of my brothers."

Cautiously, Ignotus made his way towards Cadmus's table, as did Antioch. The parchment before the middle brother was full of scribbled notes and sketches.

"I have not been very understanding of your projects," he started, glancing from one to the other. And, when Antioch immediately opened his mouth to argue, Cadmus held his hand up and added, "I should like to apologize to both of you for my lack of courtesy. Cearo has, unwittingly, brought such behavior to my notice. Will you accept my apologies?"

Not wishing for the tenseness to continue, Ignotus quickly said, "Of course."

Antioch twitched, as though he wanted to argue, but he finally stated dryly, "Very well."

"Thank you." Cadmus inclined his head. "And now, may I ask your opinions? As brothers, and skilled wizards." He pushed the parchment forward. "I am currently unraveling spells regarding Reverse Effects in magic. I know that you, Antioch, believe I am a fool for such study. However, my work is progressing with very interesting twists, and I believe I will crack the mystery of reversing Death very soon. I will not bore you with particulars, but I am creating my own spells, using the magical origins of spells such as Priori Incantatem."

He opened his hand then, and placed a small, smooth black stone upon the parchments. It gleamed in the firelight, innocent and yet...not.

"What is that?" Ignotus asked warily, recognizing the stone as the one the students of Ravenclaw had claimed his brother possessed. The one they said Cadmus talked to constantly, as if it were a person.

"After father's body was pulled from me last summer, this was what remained in my hand. It was the last thing father touched before death. It is merely a stone, at present. It contains no magical powers or abilities." He paused, and then added with some hesitancy, "Yet."

"Yet?" Antioch's expression was dark.

"Yet," Cadmus repeated patiently. "I intend to infuse my final spells upon this stone, once I have perfected them. Then, the stone will act as the catalyst to bring the dead back to this plane of existence. I know you disagree, Antioch. But I believe I can do it. I am so close. So very close."

Antioch's response sounded forced. "I will see it when you accomplish it, then," he said, his lip curling slightly.

"But, despite _your_ doubts in my abilities, it has set me to thinking." Cadmus rose from his seat, coming to eye level with his brothers. "Are we not all attempting to conquer Death, in some form and fashion? I first wondered so during the previous round table discussion at Hogwarts, but now I know it for certain. This past week, I have given more attention to both of you as you study. Antioch; you are attempting to create a wand that will defeat Death by being the most powerful wand on earth. Ignotus; you are creating a cloak that will render the wearer completely and utterly invisible. If you have not thought of it already, such a cloak would protect you in battle, for if you place the spells upon it correctly (just as I will need to place my spells upon this stone correctly) there will be no way to detect your presence. I believe that these three objects, therefore, are crucially connected...by our desires to overcome Death."

"They are projects for our Founders," Antioch said slowly. "Admittedly, I will use mine for its other intended purpose once I leave Hogwarts, but..."

" _But_ ," Cadmus cut him off, quite serious. "That is the crux, is it not? For, I will use mine for both purposes, as well. And you, Ignotus?"

With both of his brothers looking at him curiously, he swallowed and shrugged. "I had only intended on making the cloak for the project, Cadmus. I had not thought on it any further, I confess."

Disbelievingly, Cadmus inquired, "You truly spent that much gold, just to earn a mark?"

"No! I mean... I meant..."

He trailed off, suddenly uncertain. Had he _really_ only intended to spend an obscene amount of gold to obtain the necessary object to complete his project? But... why had he chosen to study invisibility in the first place?

_Because you are afraid of Death_ , the small voice in the back of his head chided. _Cadmus is right. You have an ulterior motive, just as your brothers do. Cadmus is making the stone to bring back your father, but it will serve for the project, too. Antioch is making a wand to defeat Athol, but it will also serve for the project. And you are making the cloak as a tactic for a battle that you have yet to compete in – a battle that you may never compete in! To avoid Death, because you fear Death. But it is also serving the dual purpose of obtaining your project's mark, is it not?_

Cadmus smiled. "You see?" he murmured. "We are all attempting to defeat Death in some way, Ignotus. Even you."

Guilty and suddenly ashamed, Ignotus mumbled, "Perhaps so, but I fail to see what opinion you desire from us, Cadmus."

"Only this: _three_ is a significant, magical number, as we have learned from Arithmancy. What if these three objects, perfectly designed to defeat Death in their own ways, individually, were combined together? What magic would be possible, _then_?"

There was a long, heavy pause. And then, to Ignotus's shock (and horror), Antioch looked mildly _interested_.

"An intriguing idea," the eldest mused. "A person who wields a stone that can raise the dead, a wand that can defeat all enemies, and a cloak that can shield the wearer from Death's notice? Perhaps I see your point. Combined, such an idea would form an interesting alliance. But they are only in the form of theory at present, Cadmus. We are all still working towards our final goals. None of us have actually completed our project, yet."

"But I choose to believe that we will each succeed," Cadmus said boldly. "I have faith in my brothers. Do you also have faith in me? Because, if we _do_ succeed, we will create _hallowed_ objects – objects that are capable of so much more _together_ than apart. Hallowed, because they shall defeat Death, together."

"Hallows," Antioch mused. He gazed at Cadmus's strange sketches, which showed circles and lines and triangles in various positions to each other. Ignotus wondered what the drawings meant, but then Antioch went on, "It is an interesting concept. But only once we have completed them separately, shall we be able to determine if they are any use _together_."

"I think they will be." Cadmus sat back down and dipped his quill into the bottle of ink before him. With an ease swipe, he drew a circle. "A stone," he murmured, "that will raise the dead." The quill slashed the middle of the circle. "A wand that will destroy Death."

To Ignotus's surprise, a forbidden sort of excitement was replacing the shame and guilt as he watched his brother sketch a triangle around the circle. But still, the excitement was almost as bad as the shame, somehow. Perhaps because, deep down, it was a frightening concept – _Hallows of Death_. Surely it wasn't right...

"A cloak, that will render the wearer invisible, thus protect him from his own Death." Cadmus looked up, his brown eyes glittering in the firelight.

Antioch was staring, transfixed, at the parchment. "Hallows of Death," he murmured, his head tilted slightly as he considered the idea.

Ignotus stared, too. It was oddly compelling, this strange idea of _hallows_ , a sacred word for objects that were far from sacred. Yet, he found that he was also transfixed. What would be possible, he thought, if they not only succeeded in creating their objects separately, but could actually use them _together_?

Suddenly, the possibilities seemed...endless.

**oOo**

Gasping, Callisto awoke with a start and arched away from the heavy blankets, her body coated in a fine, thin sheen of sweat.

She had been dreaming.

Again.

It took a few moments, but her heart rate slowly returned to normal, helped by the fact that she kicked the bedding free of her legs and body upon waking up. Furiously, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to forget – yet completely unable to.

_Ignotus_. Always Ignotus.

Ignotus's firm hands, caressing her thighs and kneading her breasts. Ignotus's warm mouth, capturing her own and teasing her tongue through her lips to touch his. Ignotus's body, claiming hers and taking her over the edge until she climaxed in her sleep, only to wake and discover she was alone and empty, and that her coarse nightshift was damp and sticky.

It wasn't that she didn't like Ignotus. On the contrary – there was no other boy she could remotely find herself interested in. Ever since she'd first met him, at the age of eleven, she had always loved his tousled black hair, his boyish smile, and the strong lines of his face that had grown sharper and less childish as he grew older. And during the past two years, those same strong lines had filled out into the rest of his body and he'd grown taller, more attractive. It was absolute torture to be near him, for she wanted so much more than friendship. Keeping her feelings concealed was difficult and depressing.

And then, he'd asked her to teach him how to weave, so that he could complete his project. And she had agreed, though her heart had stung painfully at the thought that Ignotus only needed her for something _other_ than a lover. Which meant that, inevitably, she would agonize over whether he might or might _not_ love her, and she refused to use her skills at Legilimency to pry into his thoughts and find the truth. Such tactics were wrong, and she would much prefer him to tell her himself if he felt anything more than a platonic connection towards her. But waiting on him was so bloody difficult.

Sighing heavily, she crawled out of the low trestle bed and slipped out of the damp nightdress that she had slept in. It was very early in the morning – still dark out – but there was no returning to sleep. Besides, she would need to be up soon, anyways.

She performed a simple yet effective cleaning charm on herself, before putting on her under-things and dressing in a long gown of black. She then pulled her long hair back at the nape of her neck with a black ribbon. There was work to do today, and she would need to be ready when her uncle desired to leave.

After removing the charms from her bedchamber door, she entered the cottage's small kitchen, only to discover that her uncle was already awake and sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with a flagon of spiced ale and a hunk of bread.

He smiled gently when she came into the room, but said nothing, and Callisto was surprised to see that he had already prepared breakfast for her as well. She sat down and ate her warm porridge in grateful silence, her thoughts drifting from her wonderful, erotic dreams to more pressing issues: the somber tasks ahead for the day.

As if he had read her thoughts, her uncle said quietly, "You do not have to come with me today, Callisto."

She shook her head mutely and continued eating. Of course she would go with him today. She always went with him. She always had; she always would. She had accepted this role in her life when her parents had been killed, and she would not shirk from it now. She went everywhere with her uncle, for she dreaded the idea of being left behind as much as she dreaded the idea of him being without her, when he could possibly use her help. She was not as skilled as he was, but she was a talented fighter in her own right.

He said nothing in response to her stubbornness, but turned his eyes back to his bread, his expression thoughtful, yet sad.

As soon as she finished, she cleaned the dishes with a quick spell and sent them flying back to their cupboards with a sweeping movement of her wand. Her uncle rose and fastened a long, black traveling cloak about his shoulders. Callisto did the same, and they gathered up two leather satchels waiting by the door. They were not heavy, for they had been bewitched to remain light, but they contained a precious cargo.

He turned and doused the fire with his wand, plunging the cottage into darkness, and together, the two figures – the tall, well-built man and the slender girl, stepped into the cold, frosty darkness that precedes dawn.

Callisto's uncle offered her his arm, and she took it. It wasn't that she couldn't Apparate on her own, but she was uncertain where they were Apparating _too_ , and it was better to allow him to take her alongside than trying to guess herself, and accidentally ending up far from where she should.

She felt him twist, and the awful compression that followed was dizzying and suffocating. Fortunately, within seconds, she felt her feet sinking into an inch of snow beneath a huge tree in a dark forest, and the compression was gone.

Glancing about warily, Callisto took in her new surroundings. It was a thick forest, so the snow was sparse. But the denseness made the darkness complete, and more than a bit eerie. It was hard to believe it was almost morning. She lit her wand the moment she released her uncle's arm, and when he began to walk, she followed, keeping just to his left and slightly behind him.

Several twists and turns later, a small, thatched cottage came into view.

She had briefly thought that such a place as this was a gloomy one to live in, when the door burst open and a buxom woman hurried out. The lady seemed to know who was approaching, for she called out in relief, " _Callisto_! Oh, dearest, it's been _moons_ since I last saw you!"

Suddenly caught in a bone-crushing embrace, Callisto felt warmth spread to her fingertips and toes. She quickly kissed the woman's cheek and murmured, "It is good to see you, Lady Prewett."

"Come inside, come inside!" Ethne Prewett flushed and gestured to the door. She was a charming, plump hostess, and always determined to please her guests. Her cheeks turned a deeper, merrier pink as she closed and locked the door the moment all were within, sealing it with several complex charms for safety's sake.

The instant warmth of the deep fire in the hearth was heavenly, as was the very life in the cottage. It was all so drastically different from the dismal surroundings outside. Callisto had always felt a bit sorry for the Prewetts, as they were forced to move frequently and live in secrecy due to the line of work they were involved in, but this place seemed much nicer than the last, at least. The last place had been a grimy hovel on the edge of a bog, and she had loathed it as much as Ethne had.

The rest of the family was gathered in the main room, and everyone looked up the moment their guests entered.

There was a tall, attractive young man in his mid-twenties, who was sitting at a gnarled, polished wooden table in a corner. He was making notes on a piece of parchment by the light of a brightly burning candle, with his long, dark red hair pulled back in a leather tie. Another young man in his early twenties was sitting on the floor beside the fire, polishing a glittering, silver broadsword that shone a bright, flaming orange (almost as bright as his shaggy, tousled hair, which was much more vivid than his brother's) by the flickering light. The third man, tall and burly and strong, with coppery hair and beard, strode forward and clasped hands with Callisto's uncle the moment the door had been sealed.

"We were wondering if we would see you before the New Year," he said heartily. "I am glad you have come."

Callisto's uncle smiled wearily in return. "We would not leave you stranded here, Leo. You know we would not."

Leo Prewett laughed. "Well, even if you had, we would have proceeded with our plans just the same. But these," he took one of the leather sacks, "will help greatly. Come in; come in! You must warm yourselves. I've never been in a place as cold as this blasted forest, I confess."

"We cannot stay long, for we have several others to visit. But I will hear of your plans before taking our leave."

"Understandable." Leo gestured towards a chair and stool by the fire.

The younger son, Flann, shifted backwards on his heels to make more room for their guests, while flashing a cheerful, mischievous smile in Callisto's direction. "Miss Stewart," he began cheekily, "If I may say so, you grow more beautiful each time I see you, and –"

"Oh, do be quiet," Leo said, with a mixture of irritation and good humor. "Callisto can certainly do better than _you_ , you young brigand! Polish that sword, for you did not do so properly last time you used it and your brother had to clean it with magic instead!"

"For the love of Circe's left buttock!" Flann complained. "Is that any way to speak of your son?"

"Of _you_ ," Leo said dryly, yet at the same time with a fond smile. "Llewelyn, on the other hand, I will always speak highly of."

Llewelyn, still sitting quietly at the table, smiled slightly and continued to write upon his parchment.

To one who did not know the family, they might believe this exchange was rude and disapproving. But to Callisto, it was mere jesting – Leo Prewett was always teasing Flann, who was hotheaded and reckless and usually took verbal shots at his father in return. An outside observer might believe Flann was being disrespectful, but it was all in good fun. The Prewett family was full of life and play and jesting – though, when it came right down to it, they were the fiercest fighters in all of Ireland. Callisto knew all of this, because they were as dear to her as if they were blood relations. And, in some ways, they might as well have been.

Callisto's uncle interrupted what was a promising, good-natured argument. "It is no matter if Flann is worthy of her or not," he said, his lips twitching with amusement. " _She_ fancies Ignotus Peverell."

" _Uncle!_ "

At her furious outburst and indignation, her uncle laughed, as did Leo. Flann, on the other hand, pretended to look pained.

" _Ignotus Peverell_? That cuts to the quick, Miss Stewart. What has he, that I do not?"

Her face burning, Callisto opened her mouth to argue, but Ethne cut in. "Enough! Leave her be," she scolded, whapping her wooden spoon against Leo's shoulder. "Seren was my dearest friend, and I'll not have you dishonoring her by teasing her only child!"

"I wouldn't dream of teasing Callisto," Leo protested feebly, dodging the dangerous spoon a second time.

"I should hope not," Ethne went on loftily, turning her glare to Flann instead (who at least looked rather abashed), while pointing her spoon at all of them in a threatening manner. "After all, she makes those cloaks you all desire so desperately. No one else can weave the way she does. She is the only witch in all of the Isles who can infuse her fabric with the protection spells needed to ward off all but the most dangerous curses! Where would you be, without Callisto? Dead, most like."

"That is indeed true." Leo grew serious now, and the worry lines in his face were suddenly and clearly visible, while Flann fell silent. "They will be useful for those of us fighting, because those we fight against have been using several curses lately that even _I_ am unfamiliar with. Recently, they have been engaging in more unusual and dangerous spells than ever."

Llewelyn added in a murmur, "We lost four of our fighters three weeks ago in pitched battle."

At these words, Callisto suddenly felt sick. Clasping her hands in her lap so tightly together they actually hurt, if only to distract herself with the physical pain, she whispered, "It is my fault. I should have sent the cloaks sooner –!"

Leo cut her off quickly, his expression strained and worried. "No, child. You could not have sent packages such as these without garnering notice. It is most certainly _not_ your fault. You know that those we are up against are extremely powerful. Many of our recruits are not adequately trained to battle those who only desire to kill outright –"

"But had I sent the cloaks sooner –!" she repeated desperately.

Her uncle cut her off the second time, though quite gently. "It is _not_ your fault," he reiterated, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "You ask too much of yourself for something that happened in your past which you could not have prevented. Furthermore, your movements are being watched, Callisto. You could not have gotten the cloaks to Leo any sooner than today. You know that."

"But it is as Lady Prewett said!" she cried miserably. "I am the only witch in all of the Isles who can weave such magical cloaks for battle! No one else knows the secrets, to my knowledge!" She twisted her hands together and blinked back tears. "Had I weaved more, or sent them sooner, perhaps those men would not have perished…!"

"There are far too many factors involved for you to blame yourself, Callisto," Leo insisted again. "The intricacies of life and death can never, ever be traced to just one person!" He turned to her uncle and added soberly, "However, it is important to inform you that I recognized two members of the House of Black during our last encounter. Salazar grows bolder, and has many resources at his hand. I know Callisto's skills at Occlumency are excellent, but…" He trailed off, glancing nervously at her.

Callisto shook her head fiercely. "No," she said angrily, knowing exactly what he was hinting at. "Salazar Slytherin," (she nearly spat the words), "has never broken my defenses. The rumors at the school are that I weave because I enjoy it, because my mother did it before me."

"He has not broken your defenses, that you are _aware_ of." Leo sighed, and turned to gaze at the flames within the hearth. "But no one knows what Salazar is thinking, or what he truly believes, because _his_ defenses are so dense that absolutely _no one_ can penetrate them."

There was a long, unnerving pause, before Callisto's uncle quietly asked, "Who else do you intend to recruit, my friend?"

"We've been secretly feeling about, as always. The Finnegan clan is powerful and, though they are stubborn as mules and dangerous as hornets, they are not cruel and hateful. Perhaps they will be willing to assist us. They are talented fighters, which would be an immense help. Their eldest daughter fancies Llewelyn, as well. That is a bargaining chip."

"But does Llewelyn fancy her?"

Llewelyn chuckled from the table. "Few men would not fancy Honoria Finnegan. She is incredibly powerful, beautiful, and her character is sound."

"Matching yourself for an mere alliance and not for love is a foolish venture, m'boy."

"Well…" Llewelyn began writing again. "Honoria and I have seen more of each other than anyone knows. Mostly in secret. We both understand the importance of the work you are trying to achieve. She witnessed a skirmish first-hand by sheer accident one day, and was horrified by what she saw. Several members of the House of Black and the House of Avery were attacking a village of Muggles near her family's stronghold. Since then, she has been convincing her parents of the drastic measures Salazar is taking, and from what I understand, they have been appalled by what she has relayed. They have met with me twice now, to discuss particulars."

"You surprise and impress me." Callisto's uncle nodded his head in approval.

Curiously, Leo asked, "What of the Peverell family? Have you not thought to bring them into this? I often wonder; after all, they are a powerful name and have mountains of wealth – enough to rival the House of Black, even."

"I have thought of it, of course. But at the moment, it is utterly impossible. Antioch has little positive opinion on the matter of Muggle-borns, but even if I thought he would help us, he is too close to Serpentina to risk inviting his confidence. And Cadmus is completely against such people, so it would be useless to approach him. Ignotus's closest companion is Ross Faintree, but though he has no qualms against such wizards and witches, Ignotus himself is reckless right now. Once he calms down, I will have more to work with, there."

Callisto broke in, flushing. "He is reckless because –!"

"I am aware of the reasons for his recklessness. He will come to terms with everything soon enough, but in the meantime, we must be patient and wait. I am hoping, by next summer, that I can arrange it so that he will be a part of us. If he is willing, of course. He would be a huge asset. He is one of the most talented wizards of his age. I have rarely seen anyone as skilled in Defense and Offensive as Ignotus. Few could hope to best him. He nearly caught me off guard one day during a practical, actually."

" _You_?" Flann looked positively stunned.

Callisto's uncle chuckled. "I must admit; he greatly surprised me. Once I can get him out of the castle and sparring with me in a more open arena, I think I will have to use Callisto and Cantrella to cast Defense spells on my behalf, for protective measures! I can't do such just yet, though. Salazar is too observant."

Leo took a deep breath and sighed heavily, as though uncertain of his next words: "Speaking of Salazar… I know you are working tirelessly against him. But eventually, it _will_ all fall apart. He will discover the truth, and he will despise you even more for it. We will have all-out war, then. He likely already knows, and is biding his time to strike against you."

Callisto's uncle rose to his feet, and fastened his cloak about him once more. "I believe you are right, but that is the way of things, after all."

Leo looked saddened by this. "Once, the two of you were the best of friends…"

"Friendships change. People make decisions, for better or worse. And our choices dictate the path we follow into the future. He and I now follow drastically different paths, and I have no other choice but to continue the work I have begun, even if it means losing someone I considered my closest friend for many years. But as Salazar was indirectly involved in the death of my sister, my brother-in-law, and very nearly my niece…" His expression changed subtly; no longer did he look weary and sad, but furious. The silence was tense, but after a moment, he murmured, "He is not the man I once knew, Leo."

Callisto remained perfectly still at his words. Long ago she had mastered the art of calmness when faced with the horrific memories of her parents' deaths. At the time, Seren Stewart had been the only witch in all of the Isles with the knowledge to weave magical cloaks for battle – and she had used her talents to pass such cloaks to those working tirelessly to protect Muggle-borns, while teaching her daughter her secret trade. Callisto's father, Essex Stewart, had been a forthcoming advocate for Muggle-born wizards and witches, and had devoted himself to assisting Seren's older brother with his work against those who despised anyone with "dirty blood". After all, pure blood wizards and witches would inevitably mate with Muggles, creating Muggle-borns, and rejecting them would only create panic and fear when there was no need for such.

And then, one day, those same wizards who hated the Muggle-borns and all of those who tried to protect them…the "blood traitors" and filthy protectors, as they were called… The Purebloods had randomly appeared at the Stewart residence.

There had been too many against too few; Callisto had been but a child and unable to help. Though her mother and father had fought fiercely and eliminated several of their attackers, both had been overpowered in a matter of minutes.

And she had witnessed it. She had witnessed the bloody, gruesome murders from where she had been hiding behind her mother's loom, behind a barrier her mother had cast in an attempt to protect her daughter. Had her uncle not suddenly appeared at that exact moment with several of his friends, she would have died, too.

At the time, it had seemed the longest, most horrific day of her young life. Her uncle had held her to his breast and cried with her. He had buried her parents, and then taken her to the Prewetts, who were allies of the Muggle-borns.

But though Ethne Prewett insisted on taking Callisto in as her own child, Callisto herself had refused the offer.

_"But I cannot stay here. I must stay with Uncle," she had explained patiently._

Her uncle had knelt beside her at these words, and tried to explain to her that the Prewetts could give her the sort of home he could not. That she must stay with Ethne and Leo and their two sons, who would all treat her as a daughter and sister now, and protect her.

But she had merely thrown her arms about his neck and begged him otherwise.

_"They cannot protect me as you can! Those bad wizards will come for me, and if I am with the Prewetts, I will bring death to them! If I stay with you, no one will harm either of us!"_

Her uncle had been unable to refuse her second demand. He had taken her in, and she had lived with him since. Now, she was inwardly thankful things had not happened differently. Her uncle was brave, kind, and gentle – but terrifyingly fierce, an excellent teacher, and continually working against the witches and wizards who sought to destroy the innocent Muggle-borns.

It was only later that they discovered Salazar Slytherin had been indirectly involved in the Stewarts' demise. He had known the identities of the wizards who had purposefully sought Essex and Seren with the intentions to murder them, and though he knew that the Stewarts were likely targets, he claimed he had specifically requested they not be attacked, and that he realized only too late that they had been murdered – otherwise, he had insisted, he would have stopped it.

Whether that was true or not was still a mystery. On the other hand, what was absolute fact was that Salazar Slytherin was indeed behind the terrible efforts to eradicate Muggle-borns, and masked wizards and witches were doing the dirty work in his place. He was, after all, a Founder of Hogwarts. He had obligations, no matter his true opinions.

The mood in the cottage was no longer cheery. Ethne Prewett looked tense and strained; Llewelyn thoughtful and quiet, Flann mulish and sullen.

Leo slowly grasped his friend's hand once more as Callisto fastened her own cloak again, ready to leave.

Quietly, he said, "You take far too many risks, Godric."

But Godric Gryffindor only smiled wearily. "Someone must. And I willingly accept the task. Best that I do, and no one else. Callisto? It is time to go. We have others to visit, today."

She nodded solemnly. "Yes, Uncle."


	9. Chapter 9

****

## Obsessions of Power and Glory

****

The rumors flying through the castle two days after the holiday were enough to make Ignotus sick to his stomach. It was amazing how everyone suddenly seemed so morbidly interested in the fact that Cearo was with Cadmus's child. In fact, the rumors were so bad that Ignotus wished his invisibility cloak were already finished – then he could avoid the relentless bombardment of questions, as students eventually desired to discover the actual truth, rather than relying on chancy gossip, and so sought out one of Cadmus's brothers. And, of course, most of the other students felt that Ignotus was easier to approach then Antioch.

The problem was, he had enough to do without quashing rumors and gossip. His primary focus was to capture a moment of Callisto's time, without anyone else interfering. He wanted to show her the cloak he had successfully woven over Christmas with Mippy's suggestions, and seek her advice on his craftsmanship.

Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as difficult to get Callisto on her own as it had been before the holiday. Within the first week back, he received a Patronus: a beautiful but deadly looking falcon that landed on his bed while he was fishing a boot out from beneath it. He was lucky, he thought, that the other boys had descended the stairs for breakfast moments before, and that he was running so late. Otherwise, he would have been slightly embarrassed when the hawk opened its beak and said in Callisto's soft voice, " _Fifth floor, statue of Oriella, moonrise tonight, to discuss weaving._ "

**oOo**

Sitting through the day's classes proved exceptionally difficult, because he found that his mind was constantly wandering to Callisto and what she would think of his latest attempts at weaving. He had seen her at breakfast, eating with Cantrella and Hesperia. She had been deep in discussion with them, and he had not dared to interrupt, though he did flush when he passed by her on his way out of the hall.

Ross, as usual, had given him a bemused, exasperated look and muttered quietly, (though with a small grin), "I thought perhaps you might've overcome your infatuation during Yule, but I see it was daft of me to believe such."

"Oh, sod off," Ignotus had snapped back. "She's assisting me with my project, much as you are assisting Perseus with his."

"Great Herpo's _arse_ , don't remind me," Ross had snarled, and for the entire first period (Advanced Charms with Mistress Rowena), Ignotus's best friend had been completely unapproachable in conversation. Perseus was clearly wearing on his nerves.

Lunch was just as difficult as breakfast, for Callisto was again with Cantrella. After lunch, Ignotus sat through a boring Defense class with Master Godric, his mind far from where it should have been, as he daydreamed about meeting Callisto after the moon had risen. It took all he had in order to jam his thoughts before they went too far; before anyone other than Ross noticed his drifting attention.

Dinner and the following few hours in the common room weren't difficult – they were torture. Ignotus tried desperately to read one of the books he had taken from the library regarding the subject of invisibility, but he couldn't absorb anything out of it. He sat by the fire, pretending to be engrossed, while he waited for all of his friends to slowly drift to their dormitories. Callisto was nowhere to be seen, and he wondered why she wasn't in the common room studying, or at work on her loom, or chatting with Cantrella as she had been doing nearly all day.

_Finally_ , when the last dormitory door closed, Ignotus threw his book to the floor, pushed out of his chair, grabbed the cloak he had weaved over the holiday from a pile of his things, and bolted for the portrait. Nethrus clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but he ignored her as he sprinted down the corridor, down a flight of stairs, took a shortcut behind a tapestry on the sixth floor, and emerged a few minutes later on the fifth floor.

As he approached the statue of Oriella, he saw Callisto leaning against the window ledge next to it, gazing out over the moonlit landscape. It was chilly within the castle, as there was still snow on the ground, so she wore a heavy cloak that, most unfortunately, hid her figure from his view.

At his footsteps, she turned and smiled shyly at him, and he felt his heart beat much faster and more erratically.

"I hope you had a good Yule," she said, stepping forward to meet him.

"It... It could have been better."

Oh, _blast_. What the hell was he saying? Why was he being _honest_?

But that was the crux of the whole thing – he couldn't be _dishonest_ with Callisto, for some reason. He _wanted_ her to know how he was feeling, and not make up an emotion that wasn't there. He wanted to see if she would care enough about him to be sympathetic and understanding.

She murmured, "Yes, I heard of Cadmus and Cearo. I hope they are both well?"

He shrugged half-heartedly and sat down on the plinth of the statue. "I suppose so."

To his surprise, Callisto joined him, her body brushing his. She reached out and took his cold hand in hers, and said seriously, "I hope Cadmus will be a good father."

"I would like to think so, but I cannot hope for such things. He is too preoccupied with his project..." He suddenly broke off, for the onrush of emotion was odd, and he hadn't expected it at all. Why was he even worried about Cadmus? His middle brother had made his own decisions, and did not want Ignotus's concern or Antioch's suggestions.

But it was as though Ignotus couldn't help feeling sad about the whole situation, and the emotion of sadness for Cadmus was so unexplainable in itself, that he buried his face against his knees, wondering what kind of fool he was for admitting such truths to a girl he was hopelessly in love with.

His heart nearly burst into his throat however, when she suddenly began stroking his unruly hair with her fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "Is there anything I can do?"

Ignotus shook his head slightly. "No." He swallowed. "But thank you."

There was a moment of silence, and just as he recollected why he was here in the first place, she said, "Well, in that case, I believe I gave you a challenge over the holidays. I should like to see your work, Ignotus."

He lifted his head and slowly handed her the cloak he had made. Mippy not only watched him as he wove, but once he had finished the fabric on her loom, she had shown him how to cut it into the correct pieces and how to sew them together, and how to neatly keep his stitches in line to create an actual piece of clothing.

Callisto took it from him, lit her wand, and began examining the fabric. He watched and waited, wondering if she would approve or have criticism.

The silence was unnerving as the minutes ticked by, and she continued to scan the threads. Unable to bear it any longer, he finally said hollowly, "One of our house elves gave me advice. She was quite the warden, I assure you. She would constantly tell me if I were going astray with the loom. I kept wondering if she would resort to hitting me with a switch! She also showed me how to cut the bolt once I had finished weaving it, and sew a piece of clothing together, as you see."

Callisto smiled. "She was an excellent tutor, for you have improved greatly! It was well that she was there to encourage you in such fashion. The overall design is slightly off from center, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. If I did not know better, I would have thought you'd have been weaving for at least a few months, based on this piece alone. It is really quite incredible that you have come so far in such a short time."

His heart and ego swelled, and he sat up straighter. "Do you really think so?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it. You can always improve. Anyone can improve. We never stop learning, no matter how old we are, or how well we think we know an art or a subject of study."

A memory, from before Christmas, rushed back to him. Startled, he said, "Master Godric once told me that."

Callisto smiled. "Master Godric has many pearls of wisdom, does he not? He has said such things to me before, too. But I think, once he secures the Demiguise pelt for you, that you will be able to weave a satisfactory cloak. If all of the hair is the same color, it will not make much difference what the pattern looks like, for that will not be what one is going to look at. If one sees it at all!"

"I have not yet asked Master Godric if he was been able to secure the pelt before Yule. I know he has many things to attend to. I do not wish to bother him, but I wish I knew if he has received it, yet." He twisted his fingers in agitation.

"I'm sure he will approach you the moment it is in his possession. But, in the meantime, you may continue practicing on my loom, if you wish."

For some reason, her eyes seemed to curtain as she said this. Confused by such a closed expression, Ignotus asked, "Won't _you_ be weaving, Miss Stewart?"

"I think you can call me Callisto by now," she said, her mouth turning down slightly. "Don't you?"

He swallowed. Call her by her given name? Whenever he thought of saying her given name, it was always in some sort of fantasy, with her spread out beneath him, arching against his body. He tightened his legs slightly, and said hesitantly, "Very well. Callisto."

She smiled when he said it, but then the smile faded as she returned to their conversation. "No," she said slowly. "I won't have time to weave for the remainder of the year. I must study healing spells. I was going to do both, but Master Godric has made me promise not to weave." She looked incredibly downcast.

"Why would he make you promise such a thing, if you love it so?"

Callisto shrugged, her eyes drifting to the long beam of moonlight streaming in from the window. "I suppose he believes that I would focus too much on weaving, and not enough on my project. And he is right. Master Godric can see through all of his students, can't he? He told Cantrella she was not to speak to any of her cousins while she works on _her_ project; otherwise, they will simply ridicule her for being selected to study beneath Master Godric and not Master Salazar, and her anger would take the place of her focus."

Startled, Ignotus said, "Why on earth would they tease her for such a thing? My brothers and I were Sorted differently, and no one teases _us_. Nor do we tease each other. All of the Founders of Hogwarts are equally gifted and important."

A bitter smile curved Callisto's lips. "You are not well acquainted with Cantrella, are you? Not many people are, for she is difficult to get to know. But the truth is, she is quite different from most members of the House of Black."

"Is she?"

He had never paid much attention to Cantrella, because he had always thought her to be _exactly_ like the other members of the powerful, arrogant Black family. It was surprising and confusing to learn that he had been wrong for six years.

"Perhaps on the outside it does not seem so. Her features are very much like her mother's, and she even possesses that haughtiness all of her relatives have. But beneath the surface, Cantrella is very, very different. Her family constantly berates her for drifting from their ideals. It wears on her temper something terrible, and she has a terrible temper. She has nearly dueled with her cousins several times these past few months alone, over some little thing or another. Fortunately, someone always stopped her before things got out of control, but Master Godric is worried for her. He spoke to her privately just yesterday to make her aware of his concerns. She claims she doesn't care that he is worried, but I don't believe it. Cantrella shoulders the world, and will insist that she is strong enough to carry her burdens alone. But underneath, she is incredibly lonely, and she hates weakness of any kind, especially in herself. She despises her cousins because they despise her… They are always teasing her about her house placement at Hogwarts and about her father's family – because even though the Dreux Clan is powerful in Gaul, they aren't quite as wealthy as the House of Black. Her cousins are cruel about such things, and she is eager for an opportunity to face them and best them. Master Godric does not want that to happen."

"I suppose I can see his point. Having several members of the House of Black face off would be apocalyptic."

"Yes," Callisto said, a bit archly. "Because in the end, Cantrella would kill them."

Utterly startled by this random, dark piece of information, he stammered, "She... _what_?"

"Have you not watched her duel against Master Godric? Pay close attention next time, for we are scheduled to practice dueling in two days. Cantrella is one of the most talented duelers I have ever seen. Master Godric has been training her privately, just as he has been training you."

"Because she is so good?"

"Partly." Callisto did not elaborate, but rose to her feet. "It is very late. We should return to the tower before we are caught."

A hundred thoughts raced through his mind, but he could not formulate any of them into words, even as he stood and followed Callisto down the hall. He had never tried to get to know Cantrella past an acquaintanceship, because her aloof, haughty personality made her almost unapproachable, and it irritated him. Was there really more to her than that?

But there was something more important than just the fact that Cantrella was more than she seemed – there was something lurking out of his reach, something that seemed almost more disturbing then Cantrella herself. By the time they reached a hidden stair that would lead them to the seventh floor, he blurted the one thing that he couldn't stop thinking:

"Why _else_ is he training her?"

To his surprise, Callisto disarmed him immediately by smiling over her shoulder. "Why else is he training you privately? Or me? Because he believes we are the best, and he desires to hone our skills, I imagine."

He tried to refocus. This didn't seem to make the first bit of sense, for some reason, though he couldn't possibly think _why_. "But, if you could do anything in the world you wished, what would it be? Train to duel defensively? I don't believe that." His voice was sharper than he intended, but it was only because there was something hidden, something dangling just out of his range of vision that he couldn't grasp. Something she knew that he didn't. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

It was pitch black upon the stairs, except for the light of her wand. She turned to face him, one step above him and on eye level with him. Her expression was now distraught and sad. Softly, she whispered, "No. It would not be Defense, or even Offense. I would work at my loom, like my mother once did. And... well... Perhaps I would do... this."

She leaned forward, and pressed her lips tentatively to his.

**oOo**

It was odd, he thought, how just two days before he had hated the idea of being gossiped about. Now, Ignotus found that he didn't much care that the entire castle was whispering, and about _him_ , no less.

But then again, every second he could spare was spent with Callisto, and he preferred being in her company to anything else. It was incredible that she actually felt the same way about him as he felt about her; but she _did_ , and he couldn't see how his life could get better. It was as though weights had fallen from his shoulders, making everything easier, more bearable. He couldn't help smiling like a dazed sod whenever he looked at her and she smiled back at him. And, best of all, she didn't seem to mind all the gossip either, but she would merely glance shyly at him whenever someone passed them, gaping.

The hardest part of his life, however, was definitely weaving – even _with_ Callisto's help. Or maybe _because_ of Callisto's help. Ignotus knew he needed to focus on creating at least one more bolt of fabric before he started on the Demiguise pelt, but with Callisto always sitting near his feet, studying and copying notes on Healing Spells, he was constantly distracted. Only when the common room finally emptied each night would she rise and sit beside him on the bench behind the loom; then, she would nuzzle his neck with her nose and place maddening, feather-light kisses down his pulse, or tangle her fingers into his hair and pull him down to kiss him deep and hard, and guide his hands around her waist.

It was more than he'd ever imagined. Kissing Callisto was breath taking and immensely satisfying, as though part of the hunger he'd been experiencing was finally relieved, somewhat. But inevitably, whenever she would eventually rise to go to bed, and he trudged up the boys' stairs to his own spiral four-poster, he would realize the hunger was actually still there, gnawing in the pit of his stomach for something more. Something _else_.

Still, despite the deepening ache, he was deliberately careful and cautious. He would not risk his mother's anger if he followed in Cadmus's footsteps, nor did he want Callisto's mysterious uncle to suddenly appear at the school to confront him, should Ignotus Peverell ever impregnated his niece. Furthermore, Ignotus had never done anything quite like this before – he had never even kissed a girl before Callisto! – and he wasn't certain how to proceed further without making an utter fool of himself. Of course, he was certain Callisto had never done these things before either, so they would have to go into the rest of it together, and he was hoping that they eventually would.

As for Callisto, she seemed to understand why he was constantly holding back in their private times together, and she never really pushed him for more. Perhaps she was as nervous as he was, or perhaps more sensible – their relationship had just started, after all.

Besides, he had something just as important as his relationship with Callisto to consider as January progressed. Two weeks into term, Master Godric summoned him.

He was incredibly nervous as he tapped on his Founder's study door, and after a couple of seconds, the deep, quiet voice advised that the door was open.

Ignotus entered, and closed the door carefully behind him before he moved to stand in front of the large desk. In the firelight and candlelight, Godric appeared tired, but he gave his pupil a small smile.

"I understand that your attempts at weaving are progressing well, Ignotus," he began.

Ignotus hesitated, and then responded, "Callisto claims they are, sir. But I fear I still have much to learn."

Godric looked thoughtful, before he murmured, "Well, be that as it may, it seems you are learning the first of which I said you would have to learn to complete your task – you are learning about _yourself_. And may I ask, what else have you discovered, besides humility?"

Only a few months ago, Ignotus would have been offended by such a statement and question. But to his surprise, he found that he wasn't offended now. Godric was merely being truthful, and Ignotus owed him the truth in return.

"Patience," he said, smiling wryly.

At this, his Founder chuckled, then sighed deeply and shook his head. "Yes, that is most expected as well. Weaving requires a certain type of patience that a great number of people do not possess. I know that I, for example, could never weave."

"If you'll forgive me for saying so, sir, but you employ your time in a much more beneficial way. Teaching us, for instance. You are the best teacher we could ask for."

Godric rose and turned to the window, gazing out into the dark winter sky. He didn't exactly respond to Ignotus's statement, but instead mused, "Someone once informed me that I lacked patience. So I know, from experience, that this was a hard lesson for you to learn as well. It was exceedingly difficult for me to learn it, I confess! But you have learned it very quickly, it seems – whereas it took me years." He smiled over his shoulder. "But never mind. That loom will teach you more than you could ever guess by the end of your endeavor."

And, without further explanation, he lifted a large package from a table beneath the windows, and placed it upon the desk.

Ignotus stared at it for a moment, hardly daring to breath.

His founder said quietly, "Open it, Ignotus. It is rightfully yours; you paid handsomely for it."

He reached forward and shakily untied the knots holding the leather hides loose. As he did so, the casing fell away, and to his amazement, the most beautiful thing imaginable spilled out.

It was huge, covering the desk and unrolling to the floor – a hide of the finest silver threads he had ever seen in his life. It positively glittered in the candlelight, like brilliant jewels or stars or liquid moonlight or maybe even just rippling water, and when he touched it, it was silky soft and cool to his fingertips. Unable to resist, he raked his fingers through it gently, feeling the long threads that were so thin there were millions of them to create the hide itself. When they shifted, they changed from silver to opaque to palest blue, sparkling all the while, never quite the same color and never quite the same appearance.

After a long, awed moment, Ignotus whispered, "I don't believe there are words to describe such a beautiful object, sir."

Godric smiled sadly. "I shall admit, I have never seen the likes of it before, nor am I likely to see such a breath-taking object again. It is truly amazing. Still, at this point, Callisto would be the best person to speak with on how to take it apart for your project; I have no knowledge of dissecting a pelt for such a purpose. My abilities to assist you have come to a halt for the present, and I can only wish you all luck possible as you move forward into the next steps."

Feeling a sudden, intense possessiveness and sense of panic, he looked up and said, "Sir? I fear to keep it within my chambers, lest someone steal it. May I request that it remain in your office, until Callisto and I can examine it further? I know you seal this place with numerous spells, and none could possibly take it if you have it protected."

"A wise decision. Even if you had not mentioned it, I would have insisted upon you leaving it here. Wizards in China commit murder for such objects; I'd prefer to avoid those types of scenarios here in Briton. We have enough murder as it is without adding another element to the mix. I shall keep it safe for you, I promise. And, tomorrow evening after dinner, I will expect the two of you here to inspect it further."

Ignotus nodded, and slowly began to fold the magnificent pelt back into the leather hides.

It was only when the straps had been retied that he realized the cloak itself had seemingly given off its own light, for the room looked darker to his eyes, and he could still see the silver gleam around the edges of his vision.

Shaking himself, as though rousing from a dream, he solemnly bid Godric goodnight, and returned to his dormitory to find Callisto.

**oOo**

The next night, she positively stared at it for the longest time, gently stroking her hand through the fur as though she would be content to do so for the rest of her life.

"Never have I seen anything so beautiful," she finally whispered, glancing up at Godric with wide eyes.

"Nor anyone else in this castle, I imagine. Not even the famous House of Black." Godric's words had a sarcastic edge to them, though Ignotus could not understand why. The House of Black could have anything they could possibly want, with the wealth they possessed.

Still, he did not question his founder, but instead murmured, "To think I own something the House of Black does not. That is something, is it not?"

"Never compare yourself to the House of Black," Callisto replied sharply, turning to frown at him. "It is pointless and foolish to do so. Presently, you have much larger issues to concern yourself with – weaving this into a cloak, for instance."

"Well, you are now my teacher," he reminded her, grinning. "I await your guidance."

She opened her mouth to retort, but Godric interrupted with a laugh: " _Great Circe_! The pair of you are entertaining, if nothing else! Ignotus, teasing your teacher is extremely unwise."

Ignotus couldn't help but grin slightly. "I am sorry." Then, more humbly, he turned to Callisto and said, "What should we do first?"

She glared at him for a moment longer before she said, "First, we will have to take it apart, though I fear it will be a daunting task. Master Godric? Mayn't we use the chamber next to this one for such a purpose? You can seal it, sir, much better than we could. And," she added to Ignotus, "We shall have to put spells upon the floor, to ensure that none of the strands go missing. Even one lost would cost a fortune!"

Godric added thoughtfully, "Moreover, I suggest you place black fabric on the floor. The strands will show up more clearly upon a dark color. And yes, you may use the chamber next to this one. I will make certain it is properly sealed, so that no one but myself, or the two of you, can enter the room."

"I wove a bolt of solid black fabric last week," Ignotus said quickly. "We can use that to place upon the floor."

Callisto nodded. "Yes, that would be best. Once we remove the hairs from the hide, we can lay them all out perfectly on the black fabric. Then we can trim them to size and would be able to feed them into the loom for weaving."

Ignotus exhaled slowly as his eyes followed her fingers; they were still moving through the silky pelt upon Godric's desk. Her plan sounded quite difficult, but at least they _had_ a plan. Which was more then he had _before_ he'd secured the pelt.

Perhaps his challenge wouldn't be so impossible after all.

**oOo**

Two days later, he would have denied thinking any such thing, for Ignotus had never in his life imagined how many strands of long, watery hair there really _were_ on a Demiguise pelt. He worked constantly on it – whenever he had a free period between classes, late into the night, early in the morning. Godric gave him permission to skip his Defense classes, considering he knew the material already thanks to his private training under his Founder. It was a better use of his time to work on dissecting the pelt, now.

By the end of the moon cycle, the strands – now his threads – were stretched out evenly upon the black fabric, gleaming white-silver over the floor. With Callisto's guiding hand, they were trimmed so that they were all the same length. Godric had used magic to transport the girl's loom to the chamber they had selected for the project, and within one weekend, Ignotus had threaded the loom with the fine, silky threads.

To his annoyance, they seemed to be constantly slipping through his fingers, never doing what he needed them to do; it was maddening and frustrating, but he kept his temper in check and was finally able to begin the actual weaving.

Callisto would occasionally come to offer her advice, and he was grateful for her presence, because she watched the threads as carefully as he did. And whenever it appeared that they might tangle or twist, she helped him rearrange them. The Demiguise pelt was so hard to weave that he wondered once or twice if he would even finish by the next year, let alone by the end of second term. The threads seemed to slip and slide and move on their own, and even Callisto commented more than once that they were horribly impossible to work with; she had never seen threads like these before.

But Ignotus had more important things on his mind then how difficult the weaving itself was. He had decided to place spells on the threads _as_ he wove them, rather than at the end of the process. It was unknown how the Chinese artists went about such things, but he had come to the conclusion during his extensive note taking and research that the cloak would be _more_ magical if he embedded it with spells as he went along, rather than at one time upon a finished product. When he told Callisto of his plans, she staunchly agreed that it was an excellent idea.

But to his surprise, whenever he cast variants of invisibility spells upon the Demiguise hair, the threads seemed to glow brighter, as though absorbing the magic. When Ignotus told Godric how odd he found the sight, his founder only frowned, and claimed that such knowledge was far beyond his expertise, and he could only offer theories.

Perhaps it was the hidden magic he had told Ignotus of months before. Ignotus could only speculate and hope, and continue to weave – locking himself within the chamber until other students wondered where he was, or if he was even still within the castle. Until he himself forgot everything except his desire to complete the fabric for the cloak.

The pelt became his obsession, and he was determined to complete it before the end of the year. He was determined to make it the best Invisibility Cloak that would ever exist. Because if Antioch made the most superior wand in the world, and if Cadmus could eventually raise the dead, then Ignotus knew he must also match his brothers' skills. He could not possibly fail.

The only thing that gnawed on his conscious was the idea of hallows. Since returning from Yule, he had not seen much of his brothers, having locked himself up with the pelt for so many hours each day. And, to his knowledge, Cadmus and Antioch had not further discussed the unification of their objects since that fateful night in Peverell Fortress. But the very idea of three objects that could defeat Death wormed its way into Ignotus's brain, so that while he wove, he thought of defeating Death _himself_. He imagined himself the strongest wizard in the world – stronger then either of his brothers.

Such were intriguing thoughts. Glory and admiration were definitely wonderful ideas, he decided.

But sometimes, every once in a while, he wondered if Godric could read his mind, because more often than not, his Founder would look at him with a sad, concerned, or frowning expression that made Ignotus nervous and confused. He had told no one – not even Callisto – of Cadmus's idea of the hallows, for despite the glorious ideas of defeating Death upon the battlefield with three objects destined to be so amazingly powerful, he was certain that Callisto would never approve of such a thing. Nor Godric, for that matter. And so he battled against himself while he wove, until his nerves were nearly raw and it took Callisto kneading the tension out of his shoulders and teasing his lips apart with hers to make him temporarily forget his grand ideas and Cadmus's suggestion.

Ironic, he thought one afternoon, while slowly sliding the shuttle across the silky threads, that the only time he forgot his obsession was when Callisto was there to physically show that she loved him.

_Love..._

Once or twice, it seemed he was _so close_ to something important…something _crucial_...something that would make _all the difference_ in the world in his project and his peace of mind...before it slipped away from him like rushing water in cupped hands.

And whenever he fought to attempt to discover it, he would inevitably shake himself, and return to weaving and daydreaming of glory – until Callisto returned to him, and the entire idea of hallows and glory and magical numbers and powerful objects faded from his mind, and he wondered what in heaven and hell he was _really_ doing.


	10. Chapter 10

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## The Love Debate

****

Antioch rubbed his face harshly. The long piece of Ellhorn wood upon his desk seemed to taunt him with ruthless vengeance, and he couldn't help but glare at it in disgust.

Before Yule, Ollivander had hesitantly informed him that creating a wand for the first time often proved a difficult business for the apprentice wand creator, but Antioch had never dreamed it would be _this_ complicated. It was definitely wearing on his patience, and he could only try, desperately, to keep his temper in check. A task that wasn't working very well at all, for twice now, he had thrown something (once a candle, once a stack of parchments) across the room in anger.

His attempts thus far to whittle the piece of Ellhorn had caused numerous cuts in varying degrees of depth and length to his fingers and hands – for, to get the best results, Ollivander had insisted that the wood must be worked _without_ magic, while one placed certain magical spells upon the wood to make it a wand. Such spells were guarded and secretive; Ollivander had given them to Antioch quite reluctantly and for the price of his silence in the form of an Unbreakable Vow – a price Antioch had willingly paid, without second thought. Who would he tell, after all? He had no desire to pass along Ollivander's trade. The price had been worth it, for the spells themselves were working well.

It was just the _wood_ that seemed so bloody difficult.

He reminded himself that it the real issue probably had something to do with where the wood had come from, and he felt a certain amount of pity for Ollivander, who worked all sorts of difficult woods all the time.

But this almost went beyond "difficult" – the Ellhorn core he had pulled from the gnarled, twisted tree in the Peverell necropolis was almost _hateful_. It seemed to _thrive_ on Antioch's frustration, for the more frustrated Antioch became, the more difficult the blasted piece of wood proved to work. It seemed to laugh silently whenever he cut himself with the knife he was using to trim the wand down to its final shape. It seemed to strike against him whenever he least expected it, almost as though it were a living thing. It actually slipped from his nimble fingers once, while he was examining it closely, and caught him across the jaw, leaving a long, though at least superficial, cut.

The worst part was that he wasn't even _close_ to having the core whittled down to where he needed it to be. It was still too thick and heavy for Antioch's liking. Sometimes he couldn't even get the knife _into_ the wood to cut it.

But he daren't complain about the problem to anyone. Ollivander would only look at him with those protuberant eyes of his and blink a couple of times, without actually speaking, because Ollivander knew the problem so well that it didn't even faze him. Master Salazar would ignore Antioch's complaints, as he still believed the venture to be utterly foolish. Cadmus was too preoccupied between creating and placing secretive Reverse Effect Spells upon the stone he was working with, as well as being preoccupied with Cearo, whose condition was becoming quite noticeable. And the only time Antioch saw Ignotus was if his brother deemed to come to meals. Half the time, Ignotus seemed to forget that he needed to eat at all. The youngest Peverell brother was so busy weaving that Antioch hadn't even had a chance to ask how Ignotus's cloak was coming along.

He would have to try and speak with Ignotus soon, but as it was currently late at the night, he would have to wait until the next morning, at the very least. Sighing, he lifted the sharp, narrow knife from his desk and took a deep breath, then gripped the Ellhorn core tightly. With a deft, swift motion, he struck the piece of wood and a chip flew off into the wall; at the same time, the knife seemed to rebound on a knot in the wood and went the opposite way before Antioch could stop it. Against all the odds, it bit into his hand, and a sudden spurt of blood made Antioch wince and growl. The cut was deeper then the others he had endured thus far, and the drops of red ran down his thumb and onto the future wand.

Without warning, the Ellhorn wood seemed grow cold beneath his fingers as the blood came into contact with it. It shuddered slightly, until he dropped it on the desk to press a strip of cloth to his hand to stop the bleeding. But no… It must have been his hand shaking, he thought absently, because the wood wasn't actually _alive_. That was ludicrous to believe.

But, to his disconcertion, when he glanced down at it, it seemed to twitch slightly _without_ his touching it.

Antioch frowned at it warily. It _wasn't_ alive, but then, why would it…move? He had followed Ollivander's instructions and placed certain spells on it already, but that shouldn't cause it to do anything like this…should it?

The wood grew still upon the desk, and he exhaled slowly. Perhaps he was wrong all the way around. Perhaps it _was_ actually alive. Trees themselves lived, so it stood to some sort of reason that wands had a residual heartbeat, so to speak, once they were taken from their host tree. He would have to ask Ollivander next he was in Hogsmeade, though he must keep the question light. Otherwise, Ollivander would ask _him_ questions.

"How strange," a quiet, hissing voice murmured behind him. "I daren't believe it, but it is as though the wood is _attacking_ you."

Antioch lifted the cloth from the cut on his hand to examine it. It was still bleeding, but the slight pressure had enabled him to see the depth in it.

Serpentina's cool hands took his without invitation. Quietly, she muttered, "This explains all of the other scars you've been sporting as of late. Why have you not told me of this?"

"And appear a fool?" he retorted. "A fool who cannot even wield a knife against a piece of wood?"

"You are no fool. And this goes beyond wielding a knife and carving a piece of wood." Her eyes narrowed upon the Ellhorn core, now lying innocent and stationery upon his desk. "This is not ordinary wood, Antioch. Not even for wand wood. There is something _wrong_ with it." She paused, and then hissed quietly at the wood in Parseltongue. Antioch had no idea what she said, but the wood twitched upon the desk at the sound, and she recoiled slightly.

Antioch tried not to tense at the ominous interaction, and instead, he said with annoyance, "It is just being difficult, that is all. It is because I have never attempted to create a wand before."

" _That_ isn't it either." She drew her own wand from her robes and started to heal his wound, but he snatched his hand out of hers and picked up his knife again.

"I shall be fine," he said coldly.

"You have not told me that the wood moves of its own accord, Antioch." Her voice was sharp.

"No, but I have a theory on that, and I do not think it is a cause for concern."

"I can guess your theory. Trees live, so it stands to reason that wand wood retains residual magic simply from its prior life. But in this case, I think there _is_ a cause for concern."

"You are correct in that our theories match," he responded, slightly irritated. He had much work to do, and Serpentina, of all people, knew how important it was that he concentrate upon his project, regardless of the hour. "But I am certain that there is no cause for concern. Ollivander advised me that the first wand a person creates is always a very difficult process."

"But this is _different_!" she pressed, sounding both frustrated and confused. "In this case, the wood is completely engrained with _Death_." She was still frowning at the Ellhorn, as though it had caused her some personal injury, as though she despised it. "It isn't just being _difficult_ ; it doesn't _want_ you to carve it into a wand!"

"It _is_ completely engrained with Death!" he snapped, turning to scowl at her. "As you well know, that is exactly _why_ I selected that particular tree!"

She drew herself up and matched his scowl. "You aren't listening, are you? That wood," she declared angrily, "is trying to kill you, Antioch!"

He blinked at such a ridiculous suggestion, and immediately turned back to his project. "Hardly," he muttered. Though, in the back of brain, something nagged at him that perhaps she might be right, and that bothered him more than he wished to admit.

"Antioch, that wood is _dangerous_. Destroy it, immediately. Forget the project. Your _skill_ is enough to defeat Athol McBain! You don't need a wand of Death!"

"For Herpo's sake! Would you leave me be? I have much work to do, and you are a distraction. I _will not_ give up this project!"

"A _distraction_? As Cearo is to Cadmus, you mean?"

Her ton sounded dangerous, and her eyes were glittering furiously. He sighed and rubbed his face again. It would not do to anger Serpentina, no matter how much she was irritating him at the moment. Not only was she an accomplished dueler herself, but her father could kill him in fifty different ways, without having to even think about the task or strain himself.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I meant…" He exhaled and scowled. "Serpentina, I must get this finished. It is hard enough with the wood itself attacking me, without _you_ attacking me, or me wanting to be with you!"

"Then come to bed," she suggested, tugging at his hand. "Leave it be for the night; start again tomorrow morning afresh."

He didn't move, but kept his eyes upon the Ellhorn. It was a tempting prospect. Serpentina could certainly ease the tension out of his muscles if he went to bed with her. But the Ellhorn seemed to laugh at him, laugh at the idea that he was weak enough to need a woman to help accomplish his task of carving the wood for his future wand.

Serpentina bent down and brushed her lips along the shell of his ear. "Come," she murmured. Her hands were already skating over his chest, going beneath his tunic's collar to touch his skin. "Leave it for the night."

"No. I must work on it as much as possible. I _will_ conquer it," he spat, more at the wood then at her.

She withdrew from him, even stepping back a few paces. When she finally spoke, her voice was ice. "It _will_ kill you, Antioch. Whether it attacks you and cuts you to ribbons, or whether it _works_ you to death – it _will kill you_. I can see it as plain as day, and you won't listen to reason!"

The door had already slammed behind her by the time her words struck him fully. He turned to stare after her as the gravity of her words sank into his brain. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps the wood's goal was to kill him, considering that it came from a cemetery full of the dead. Perhaps it loved Death too much…

Suddenly disturbed, he rose from the table and put out the candles. He would be unable to recall Serpentina for the night, but he could at least do with some sleep. And she was probably right – if he attacked the Ellhorn wood again in the morning, it might be easier to work with. Maybe it was as tired as he was.

**oOo**

"Mr. Peverell!"

Ignotus jerked awake, and as his conscious came to him, so did a rising sense of embarrassment. Mistress Helga was frowning at him, and most of the class had swiveled in their seats to stare at him. He shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been aware that he had drifted into a doze at all.

"Do you intend to sleep through tonight's round table discussion?" the lady asked sternly.

He shook his head quickly, though it was with effort that he stifled the yawn. "No, Mistress!" he insisted apologetically, resisting the urge to stretch his shoulders and legs.

"Well, it shan't do for you to sleep through my Charms lecture, either! You will accompany me after class to the kitchens, and demonstrate today's lessons for me on the crockery there." Then, turning to glide to the front of the room again, she continued, "Now, as to what I was saying before Mr. Peverell drifted off to sleep…"

Ignotus flushed as she went on with her lesson. Circe's _tits_ , how could he have been so stupid as to drift off to sleep in Advanced Charms? But the trouble was, he was so exhausted that he couldn't _help_ falling asleep, and now he was going to seriously pay for it. The punishment of demonstrating charms to Helga Hufflepuff wasn't the worst part – it was the time it would take to do the same; time he would lose when he could be cloistered in the chamber with the loom, trying to weave the Demiguise pelt into fabric. He had completed a third of it already, and the prospect of finishing was driving him to work harder. He could see it completed now, with a bit of it already done.

Which, incidentally, was why he was so bloody tired. All of his free time had been spent in that room, fighting with the slippery threads, desperately trying to make them come together into fabric. He had forgotten to attend meals several times now, and forgotten at least one Transfiguration lecture (though he'd been able to convince Mistress Rowena that the reason he'd missed was because he wasn't feeling well, so at least he wormed his way out of _that_ detention).

He knew that Callisto was starting to worry for him – she hadn't said anything to him yet, but he could tell she was worried just by the way she looked at him when they were together. Even now, sitting next to him in the lecture, she was staring at him as though stunned he had drifted off at all. He shook his head a fraction when he caught her eye, hoping she wouldn't whisper anything to him. He couldn't afford any additional delays, and Mistress Helga was already annoyed with his disregard for her lesson.

Callisto bit her lip, but turned her focus back to the front of the classroom, where a set of ale tankards were dancing a reel on top of a large desk.

It was a relief when the bell in the courtyard tower clanged the hour and the class ended; Mistress Helga quickly instructed her students to write twelve inches of parchment on the necessary wand movements for the spell she had been demonstrating.

Ignotus sullenly remained behind as his friends filed past him. Most stared at him in surprise, or ducked their heads as they went by. Ross whispered, "I'll save you a place at dinner. And after the round table discussion tonight, I think you need to go to bed and get a decent night's sleep, for once."

"Absolutely not," Ignotus hissed back. "I have work to do. Go on, I'll be down shortly."

Mistress Helga was gathering her parchments and Vanishing them, and he certainly didn't want her to overhear what Ross was saying – otherwise, she might guess _why_ he had fallen asleep, and complain to Master Godric that Ignotus was spending too much time on his project then was strictly necessary. After all, the Founders had stated at the very beginning that the challenges were only supposed to be extra-curricular activities.

"Ross is right," Callisto interrupted quietly. "You're exhausted. You don't need to do anything after the round table discussion except go to bed."

He sighed in annoyance. "I'll be along to dinner shortly."

Callisto and Ross glanced at each other, their expressions clearly miffed, but they left him to Mistress Helga without another word. When the door shut behind them, he fought the urge to rub his face (or put his head down on the desk and go back to sleep), and gathered his books.

"Ah, yes," Mistress Helga said, turning from where she had been putting her things away. She frowned slightly at him – though not unkindly. "Mr. Peverell. You have been very distracted as of late, and not just in _my_ lectures or practices."

He said nothing to this – what _should_ he say? He was too tired to think of an excuse, as he had managed with Mistress Rowena.

"Normally, when my students are distracted," she went on casually, as she led the way out of the classroom and into the corridor, "I usually only need look as far as their…partner." She smiled slightly when he blushed at her suggestion. "But I don't think that is your distraction, Ignotus."

"I am sorry for falling asleep, Mistress. It won't happen again."

"This isn't about you apologizing," she said gently, stopping to look at him with concern. "I care about _you_. I care about all of my students, regardless of where they were Sorted! I know, for instance, you are putting _far_ too much time into your project – much more than was agreed upon by myself and my admirable colleagues. And I have no concern that if we were to proceed directly to the kitchens, you would be able to easily demonstrate the charm we were discussing in class today. But what is _eating_ you, Ignotus? What is creating this _distraction_ in you? Surely not just your project."

He swallowed. How on earth did he explain _any_ of it? That the Demiguise pelt was being so frustrating, and would hardly weave together because the threads were so fine and slick? That he wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of a blazing fire with Callisto and snog her senseless for a few hours after the other students went to bed, and forget all of his other responsibilities? That his father's death still nagged in the back of his mind, giving him a solid incentive for completing an Invisibility Cloak? That Cadmus's suggestion of the three hallows was still dancing before him, maddeningly? That he refused to be outdone by his older brothers because they always seemed to be ahead of him in every possible way? That he wanted to experience glory and honor and earn the respect of others for his own skills, and not just because he was a Peverell? That he worried about his mother, at home without her sons or husband? That he worried about Cearo, and how strained she always looked, because she was worrying about Cadmus and her own project and her unborn child? That he worried about Ross, who hated to be looked down upon because he was Muggle-born? That he worried about Callisto, because she seemed to know he was being eaten alive with so many concerns?

When he finally refocused, Mistress Helga was staring at him, as though she had read every thought his mind. Dimly, it occurred to him that she _had_ read his mind, and he shifted uneasily.

After a long, unnerving pause, she whispered, "If you are not careful, whatever is the ultimate cause of your distraction will destroy you alive, Ignotus…!"

He recalled, when his brothers had returned to the castle from the clan wars back in autumn, that Mistress Rowena had remarked that a mysterious "beast" was consuming Antioch. He suddenly found it difficult to breath; his chest felt constricted and tight. Heaven help him! Was he allowing something similar to destroy him, too? He had sometimes wondered, vaguely, if he was going mad, but now was the first time he actually thought that perhaps he was mad.

"What should I do?" he whispered, the panic rising through him so fast that it was nearly dizzying.

Mistress Helga still seemed slightly shocked at what she had seen behind his eyes, but she said sadly, "You must refocus, dear. Remind yourself what it is you _really want_. Allow that one thought alone to rise above the other thoughts that are trying to destroy it." She paused, and then added, "And you may wish to speak to Godric. Talking of your concerns is always beneficial, and alerts someone else to the fact that you may need their help. No one can shoulder the world alone, for it weighs far more then a single person can carry."

He nodded, feeling pale and clammy.

"For now, though," she said, taking him by the arm and guiding him towards the stairs, "I think you need a decent meal – I've noticed you've been skipping a few, thanks to your distractions. And perhaps the round table discussion will do you good tonight, as well."

"It is not about Death, is it?" he asked, nauseated at the very idea.

"Goodness no, of course not. If you promise not to breathe a word to your fellow mates, I shall tell you, to ease your mind." She smiled. "Tonight's discussion will be about Love."

"Love?"

"Yes. Love," Mistress Helga repeated, as they turned a corner and headed for another staircase. "There are many magical entities that move the universe, you know. Death is not the only one, despite Salazar's thoughts from the previous discussion. I hope you will join in this evening?"

Ignotus remained quiet as he considered. If nothing else, it would be a more pleasant round table discussion than the previous. He thought of Callisto, and his heart felt slightly lighter; perhaps such a discussion was just what he needed.

She smiled at him as they came to the top of the marble stairs. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," she said gently, before proceeding down to the entrance hall and leaving him to his thoughts.

Callisto and Ross had saved him a space at the table of Gryffindor's students, and he gratefully sank onto the bench between them and reached for a succulent-looking duck breast on a platter of meat.

"Well?" Ross finally asked, a trifle sarcastically.

"Well, what?" Ignotus responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "Mistress Helga didn't make me do the detention after all. We just…talked, instead."

"Talked? About what?"

He hesitated. "Things."

"You're wearing yourself out." Ross sounded angry. "That idiotic cloak of invisibility has become an obsession with you. You were never supposed to put this much time or effort into your project, Ignotus. It was only supposed to be an extra study."

Callisto interrupted before Ignotus could retort. "Ross is right," she said quietly, but more firmly then she had ever spoken to him before. "I know it is important to you, but if you allow it to consume you, then it will be worthless in the end. And you paid far too much gold for it, to allow it to become worthless."

He sighed, slightly shameful. "Yes, I know. As I said, Mistress Helga and I discussed quite a bit on the way down to dinner. One of our topics of conversation was about consumption. And so I will try to refocus. I promise. I am sorry for worrying you. I did not realize I was so distracted."

"You have definitely been distracted. And it is quite dangerous," Ross snapped, before Callisto could respond, "to become so obsessed with anything, for you forget everything else. You forget to come to meals, you have fallen asleep in class, and you ignore your friends, you –"

"I will try to do better from henceforth. Believe me. Please," he implored of both.

Callisto and Ross glanced at each other, but said nothing further on the subject, and returned to their meals.

After a long moment, Callisto finally murmured, "In any case, you cannot do anything additional on the cloak tonight. The round table discussion will likely take a bit of time, and you desperately need to sleep afterwards."

"I will do so," he promised sincerely.

She smiled at this, and he couldn't help but feel an odd twinge in the pit of his stomach, a flutter, as though he had forgotten to breathe for a moment. He hadn't felt it in at least a week; so busy he had been with the cloak.

As soon as the meal was finished, the students arose and Godric and Salazar swept the tables and benches into their customary u-shape for the discussion. Everyone took their seats again, Ignotus between Callisto and Ross. Directly across from him sat Antioch, looking bored as usual, while Cadmus and Cearo sat together between Mistress Ravenclaw and Mistress Helga's two tables.

Godric stepped forward and said briskly, "As you all know, tonight's topic has been selected by Mistress Helga. As such, I shall relinquish the floor to her, and she shall announce our discussion for the evening. As always, we expect complete participation and a depth of thought to your ideas." Gesturing graciously, he stepped back and allowed Mistress Helga to come forward.

Smiling, Mistress Helga announced, "During our last discussion, Master Salazar led us on an interesting journey to unravel and debate the mysteries of Death. Tonight, we will discuss just as potent a power, one that equally moves the universe, and one that is as equally mysterious. We will be discussing...Love."

A few students shifted – some glanced at the person they were interested in and blushed or winked or smirked; some looked at the table or their hands or the floor. A number of Salazar's students rolled their eyes and several of Rowena's looked bored. Ignotus felt Callisto squeeze his hand slightly beneath the table, and when he glanced at Cadmus, he discovered that his middle brother was frowning slightly, though not out of anger. Antioch, meanwhile, had pulled out a roll of parchment and appeared as though he had plans to devote his time to other pursuits; next to him, Serpentina's eyes glittered at him furiously.

"So," Mistress Helga began. "What is Love?"

After a long, awkward moment of silence, Mercia Fawcett of Ravenclaw said, in a monotone voice, " _Love_ is to hold an affection or attraction for a person, object, place, or idea."

Mistress Ravenclaw frowned severely. "A perfect definition, Miss Fawcett. You must do better then that to earn marks, however." Her tone was one of slight admonishment.

Mercia flushed. "What other answer is there, Mistress?"

"Many others," her Founder said sharply, and Mercia crossed her arms and fell into a brooding silence as the lady continued, "The art of knowledge is not restricted to text books and parchments and essays. It must tap deeper."

Mistress Helga smiled slightly. "Miss Fawcett, you are indeed correct in your definition – to _love_ is indeed to hold an affection or attraction to someone or something. But it is, as Mistress Rowena says, also much, much deeper. So? Other thoughts?"

"I believe that Love," Dulcina Wynn, one of Helga's students, said, "is one of the most interesting powers of the universe, Mistress. For not only does it fill one with a feeling of elation and happiness, but it can also work in reverse – _not_ to be loved in return, for example, can create feelings of despair and heartache."

"Very true," consented Callisto, so quickly that her very voice startled Ignotus, who turned to stare at her. She went on calmly, "But it goes much deeper then even that. Love is, in itself, a veritable, inexhaustible well of emotion, layered and complicated. For just when you believe you have reached the bottom – that is, despair and hopelessness – the well reveals another level and opens up even more. I believe that Love is more powerful then Death, for in this respect, Death has only one layer, only one dimension. Love continues; Death ends."

Serpentina's haughty voice cut in. "To continue believing in Love so implicitly is foolish, Miss Stewart. There _are_ circumstances in which the well runs dry and one is left with the final layer that is anything but pleasant – the layer of ending. Such is as good as Death, which in turn means that Death is the greater power of the two. Death is the ultimate end."

"False. If one reaches such a level," Callisto responded, a hint of anger hidden in her voice that surprised Ignotus as much as her original speech had, "then one simply has lost the heart to dig deeper. If one continues to believe, one will continue to reach new levels in the well. One will find more to Love than simply an ending. Death is only the end if you allow it to be so. Love, however, continues into eternity. We all make our own choices –"

"To hope so constantly is unrealistic." Serpentina's lip curled. "A waste of time."

"Is it?" Mistress Helga interrupted before the argument could continue. "Is Love a waste of time? Let me pose this question to all of you – which do _you_ prefer? Love or Death?"

The students shifted, a few glancing at each other nervously. A few mumbled, "Love", and Mistress Helga arched an eyebrow.

"How intriguing! A mere _handful_ of you prefer Love to Death?"

Cantrella spoke, which was as much of a surprise to Ignotus as anything else had been during the discussion thus far. "In my experience," she said sharply, "the two often follow hand in hand. Many times have I witnessed the power of Love because the power of Death has been active. And," she added, glaring hatefully at the table of Slytherin's students, in particular her cousins, "I would rather continue to believe in Love then bow to Death, for to bow to Death shows weakness."

"How… _admirable_." Cassiopeia Black chuckled sarcastically. "And _just_ like you, 'Ella! Mother always said you had little Black blood in your veins. You are so much your father's daughter, aren't you?"

"Better to be admired and honorable," Cantrella responded coldly to the insult, "then a _Black_."

At Salazar's table, Cassiopeia, Druella, Moira, and Brogan's chairs scraped the floor and several wands came out, along with a couple of shouts of fury. At Rowena's table, Udela stood up as well, her lips drawn back into a snarl. Cantrella remained coolly seated, eyes glittering maliciously at her cousins, daring them to attack her in front of the entire school.

" _Enough_!" Godric's voice rang out furiously. "Everyone _sit down_ , this instant! How _dare_ you provoke each other in an academic setting! Wands away!"

Salazar looked as furious as Godric. "Obey Master Godric _at once_ ," he said icily, when his students did not immediately do as they were told. " _Now_! He is one of your Founders!"

The tension crackled; the members of the House of Black slowly sat down, but they did not take their eyes off of Cantrella.

"We are talking of _Love_ ," Mistress Helga reminded everyone. She looked highly irritated. "Not Hate. May we please return to our round table discussion?"

Heorot Belby of Ravenclaw quickly took the discussion in a new direction and said, "I personally must say that I feel Love is too closely related to Lust, Mistress Helga."

"Yes. The two often go hand in hand," answered Odell Gumbold at Helga's table. "Much like Love and Death, I suppose."

"Love is tied with many things," shrugged Ranulf Rosier, another of Ravenclaw's students. "In some ways, it is not an entity by itself, but a parasite entity."

"Love is not a _parasite_ ," Hesperia countered from Gryffindor's table. She looked utterly revolted at the idea. "What an awful thing to equate it to! _Death_ is the parasite, always on the fringes and spreading in all directions! Love _counters_ it, and perhaps some feel it is a worthless power, but it is far from that! Despite what shapes and forms it may take, the fact that it _is_ able to be so many different things is the very way in which it combats Death and Despair!"

Cadmus spoke up quietly. "But in the end, Death _will_ win. Love is not enough to prevent Death from occurring, no matter how it tries. The only way to prevent Death is by Power."

Ignotus expected Mistress Helga to rebuke Cadmus for changing the topic and attempting to bring up his project once more, but to his further surprise, _Cearo_ was the one who did so.

" _Power_." Her voice was bitter and sad. "Power is a consuming entity that drains you of life! Power is one of Death's minions, Cadmus! Love, separate from Death and Power, is the only possible way to combat the two, as Hesperia said!"

"A fool's belief," Serpentina muttered, under her breath, and Callisto tensed angrily in her seat.

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably, wondering why this round table discussion was so much _worse_ then the last one. He had expected a pleasant, cheerful discussion – not the bickering and hatred that was simmering throughout the students. Most of those who obviously agreed with Love's positive attributes seemed fearful of speaking up, lest Salazar and Rowena's students chastise them mercilessly. From the corner of his eye, Callisto's profile continued to be rigid and taut; next to her, Cantrella looked haughty and daring. The only people in the room with the ability to stand up to the attacks on the subject of Love were Callisto and Cantrella, and Cearo. Even Hesperia had shrunk back into her seat, looking upset. A strange combination of fighters, he thought distantly. A quiet, sweet girl who was his love; a fierce, arrogant girl who had almost been Sorted to Slytherin's fold; a seemingly weak, submissive girl who was emotionally wrought due to her pregnancy and Cadmus's distant attentions. They shouldn't be the only ones to stand and fight.

"It is foolish?" Ignotus asked, his voice ringing slightly in the room, "To care about someone in such a way as to want to protect them and cherish them?"

Serpentina looked startled by his question – by his daring to speak up at all. Her eyes flickered once to Antioch, who was still writing on his parchment, seemingly not paying any attention to the conversation. She said coldly, "You have never been rejected by one you loved, have you, Ignotus?"

"Yes, I have."

To this, the entire room fell silent. Serpentina looked taken aback, Callisto turned to look at him in surprise, Cadmus looked confused, and Antioch stopped writing.

He plunged on, "But just because someone I care about rejected me, does not mean that I _stopped_ caring about them. It is better, of course, when someone returns your affection. But you can still care about someone, _love_ them, even if they've angered you or rejected you."

"And who, pray tell, rejected you that you would continue to care about them despite being stabbed by an invisible knife?" Serpentina crossed her arms and smiled like a viper.

Ignotus smiled sadly as he thought of how Cadmus had treated both him and Antioch prior to Yule. "It isn't important _whom_ ," he said, evading the question. "Love does not necessarily mean a romantic attraction, after all. It can also take the form of a platonic relationship. The important thing is that someone I cared about rejected me, and I experienced the bitterness that followed. And that I continued to care about them, despite that! By allowing hate and discourse to enter your soul, you are essentially allowing Death to overpower Love. Those emotions – hate, discourse, anger, bitterness – they destroy Love. In a word, they bring Death _to_ Love. And there is absolutely no sense to allow Death to conquer you and eat you from the inside out, because then, you become nothing more then an empty shell. But to continue to Love, to learn to care about someone despite everything else taking place in the world around you… That is to _Live_."

Serpentina rolled her eyes and declined to argue further – perhaps she was simply too annoyed to continue the fight. Ignotus felt uncomfortable, having had the last word in such a draining discussion, but when he looked up he realized that Godric was watching him closely. Almost _urgently_. He wondered what on earth his Founder was so desperate to convey, and his brow furrowed slightly as he thought.

"That will end our discussion for tonight, I believe," Mistress Helga said suddenly, and Ignotus came out of his reverie. Godric was no longer watching him, and he wondered if he had perhaps imagined his master's expression. Helga bade the students to remember the discussion and to not dismiss Love so lightly, and then they were dismissed.

Benches scraped the floor and Ignotus stood up, slightly dazed, still trying to decipher Godric's look. Callisto tugged at his hand and he turned to look at her; to his surprise, her eyes had the same blazing, fierce, desperate look that Godric's had seemed to have only moments before.

"Come," she insisted firmly, and before he could protest, they were swept up in the tide of students leaving for the dormitories.

Moments later, alone and on a narrow hall on third floor, Callisto pushed him into a dark corner and came quite close to him.

"Listen to me," she whispered. "Remember what you said downstairs? About Love allowing you to Live? Please, Ignotus. You mustn't ever forget that! Continuing to Love, despite everything else that happens, enables you to Live. That," she insisted, "is the most difficult task in the world. Trust me, for I know only too well how difficult it is. I've had to do it before. But you can succeed at it if you remember. And… you must especially remember it when you weave the cloak. Do you understand?"

"I… Yes. I suppose so. But why is it so important, all of a sudden? I mean, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it, but…"

"It just is! It's incredibly important. So many students are working on their projects for other reasons – ambition, pride, praise… You mustn't be like that. You'll see… If you continue to weave the cloak out of Love, then once you complete it, it will be so much better then anything anyone else has done. Because you'll have put _yourself_ into it, and not all of those other emotions that try to overshadow Love. Cadmus and Antioch, they are making the stone and the wand because Death has overpowered them and consumed them – because they want to defeat Death. Death's minions, Power and Hate, consume them! Listen to me now, if you never listen to me again," she demanded. "Finish the cloak out of Love, and not for _any other reason_ , Ignotus."

Ignotus wondered what on earth had made her so insistent, so desperate to have him understand her. "Very well. I will," he said, taking her hands in his. He felt her sigh of relief, and he then felt the familiar gnawing in his stomach as he remembered the idea Cadmus had had about hallows. As soon as he thought it, he felt Callisto's body stiffen, and he resolutely pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

"I promise," he added firmly.

She relaxed slightly, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had read his mind.

Nor could he wonder how he would forget the glorious idea of hallows in order to weave the idea of Love into the cloak.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter was written well before the movie "Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them" released. I pulled the Graphorn from the book Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, NOT the movie. I used the description listed in the book. The film depicted the Graphorn very differently, so please keep that in mind.
> 
> ~BD

****

## Terminus

****

Cearo shifted slightly in her seat, feeling rather uncomfortable and unmotivated. Worse, she was unable to do anything about either problem, for it had been her idea in the first place that she and Cadmus should spend the afternoon in the library, studying.

And that had indeed been her original plan. She had mountains of essays to write and texts to read, and she needed to work on her challenge as well. But somehow, being with child made everything pile up even more then usual, she thought dejectedly.

And, unlike _her_ , Cadmus somehow managed to stay caught up with all of his regular lessons despite the fact that he would be a father within a few months. He didn't have to carry the baby, or feel it kick and twist within his belly. It didn't make him uncomfortable or hot or cold or frustrated or angry or sad or moody. He had time to think about everything else – all of the things she _would_ have been thinking of, were she not with child.

For instance, during the past hour of their time together today, he had been writing a series of complex equations on a piece of parchment, crossing numbers and symbols out occasionally and reworking the theory each time – because he had completed his weekly essays already. Cearo, who was behind in Herbology more than any other study, couldn't seem to focus on her essay at all, simply because she was constantly distracted by Cadmus's obvious diligence. He had always been brilliant, but the advanced level of the work he was currently doing was beyond anything she had ever seen – even if it was for his challenge, which she disagreed with entirely. She tried to refocus on her own work, and managed to write out another line regarding the best way to obtain Poisonous Hornbush berries without causing injury to oneself.

But when Cadmus suddenly muttered to himself, " _No, to reverse that aspect properly, the principle of Elwyn's Sixteenth Law must be put into effect in conjunction with the number of months or years that have already past..._ " she couldn't help but look up in horror.

Elwyn the Fierce was a scholar from at least five or six centuries past; his history was clouded in mystery and his adult life had been one of utterly disturbing qualities. He was considered a genius, but as his theories and deductions were so horribly dangerous that the majority of the wizarding community had banned their study. In fact, it was rare to hear his name at all these days – she only knew of him because, in her third year at the Founders' school, Mistress Helga had made a warning comment about the man's foolish writings and their removal from the Hogwarts library several years prior, mainly because four students had located the documents and tried one of the theories, with disastrous results.

"Surely you are not studying Elwyn the Fierce?" she whispered.

Cadmus glanced at her, eyebrows slightly lifted. "Yes, I confess I am. His writings contain knowledge I need in order to complete the stone's ultimate power."

She gaped at him, unable to comprehend. That the man she loved would stoop to study a banned, twisted scholar was beyond her. She had thought that Cadmus was slowly becoming his old self again, but clearly _not_. Not if he were studying Elwyn. She stammered, "You would stoop to accepting Elwyn's methods for something like this? Cadmus, you mustn't! His theories were too dangerous! Surely there are other theories or ideas you can use!"

"None that investigate reversing spells the way Elwyn did. His writings are quite fascinating, actually."

Cearo felt herself growing pale and, for some reason, the baby kicked at that precise moment. She winced and instinctively put a hand on her stomach.

However, before she could ask where on earth Cadmus had even located Elwyn's writings, he dropped his quill and leaned towards her. "Are you well?" he asked, glancing down at her stomach.

She started to nod, but when then her eye caught his scribbles again and she scowled instead. "No, I am not!" she argued quietly, leaning away from his touch. "Cadmus, please! For the sake of our child, I beg you will stop reading Elwyn's theories! And stop putting so many dangerous spells into that stone! If you're going to make it – and you are," she added bitterly, "you should at least focus on something positive instead of something so negative! Otherwise, the stone will be worthless!"

"Something positive?" He sounded annoyed. "Such as?"

Cearo felt her ire rising. "You are consumed by the thought of Death! I know you miss your father, but that's _just it_! Did you not even listen to the discussion two nights ago? Your brother defended Love! You should take his words to heart and finish this stone in such a way as to make it an _asset_ instead of a _liability_! Your father would not want you this determined to defeat a universal entity that cannot be defeated!"

Cadmus had already returned to his notes, as though determined to block her words. "Ignotus is young, and does not understand the ways of the world yet," he responded.

"Do not chastise him thus! Ignotus is sixteen, and more intelligent then you give him credit for! He is a man, regardless of whether he has fought in the Clan Wars or not!"

"I am aware of Ignotus's age and intelligence, but he has still not lived in the world, yet. His project is, by far, more difficult then anyone realizes – maybe more difficult than _he_ realizes. But the purpose of the stone is to bring back the dead, and I fail to see how Love would be a deciding factor in the equations for reversing Death."

"It should be _the_ deciding factor," Cearo insisted. "You should wish to see those who have passed because you loved them, not because you want to cheat Death of another victim! The distinction means everything! Trying to cheat Death will destroy you!"

"The distinction will empower me, not destroy me."

The baby kicked again, and Cearo bit back a cry. Cadmus didn't even look up, this time. Suddenly feeling sick and tired, she rose unsteadily and gathered her parchment, not bothering to put it in any kind of order.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, hardly looking at her.

"Yes. I'm going back to the dormitories," she answered shortly.

"Simply because I don't believe your idea is the best one?"

"I'm tired, Cadmus! The baby is unsettled and my back hurts! I shall see you tomorrow. Good night."

And before he could inquire further, Cearo stormed down the aisle and through the library, unable to ignore the tears pricking her lashes. She would have to find time to finish the Herbology essay later, as well as work on her own project: she was studying the effects of Ashwinder eggs in potion making, and if reworking a couple of potions that did not involve the dangerous things would make them stronger if she did add them.

But somehow, she just couldn't put her heart into it to work on either any more tonight.

**oOo**

Ignotus had been staring at the partially completed cloak for half an hour, but nothing had changed. The threads in the loom were still the same; the portion that was finished still shimmered softly in the dim light.

His shoulders drooped. He had no idea how to weave _Love_ into the cloak. If Callisto's suggestion was accurate, _Love_ would be the universal key to rendering him utterly invisible – the hidden, powerful magic that Godric had mysteriously hinted at when he first decided to weave the cloak the previous term. But no brilliant idea had come to him yet; no stroke of genius presented itself. _Love_ was a feeling, not a spell or charm or curse or hex. It wasn't something he could say to the threads and the fabric, and by such, they would absorb _Love_ the way they would absorb spells.

Frustrated, dejected, and drained, he rose from the bench before the loom and wandered to the door of the room. Until he was able to overcome this obstacle, there was no use in weaving further. He could complete the cloak, but unless he wove _Love_ into it, he would fail.

He closed the door behind him, slightly grateful that he was no longer staring at the shining, glimmering Demiguise threads. With a sigh, he waved his wand in a few complicated movements, sealing the door carefully, so that none could enter except Callisto or Master Godric. Then he began to trudge through the corridors, wondering if the library had any texts on the unknown magic of Love. He rather doubted it, but it was worth a try. He had to start somewhere, and seeing as it was the end of the week and there were no classes today, he would have quite a bit of time to search for information on the illusive subject.

However, just as he reached the third floor, he saw Ansen sprinting up the corridor towards him, ashen and terrified.

" _Ignotus_!"

The younger boy skidded to a halt and Ignotus grabbed his arms before Ansen crashed into him. The panic in the youngster's face made him feel cold and unsettled.

Panting, Ansen gasped, "Some of Salazar's students...! They... they..."

"They _what_?" Ignotus demanded sharply. There was absolutely no bloody telling what some of Salazar's students had or hadn't done. It could be anything, and they weren't on the best of terms with more than a few students beneath the other three Founders.

"You've got to come right away!" Ansen looked on the verge of tears. "They... A Graphorn escaped the forest somehow, and some of Salazar's students _challenged Ross_! Said a Muggle-born was weaker then a Pureblood and told him they bet he couldn't destroy it alone! The Founders are in a meeting and no one knows where they are, and...!"

Ignotus felt his heart stop for a fleeting second. Graphorns were incredibly dangerous creatures with hides tougher then Dragons', and nearly impossible to kill for it. They rarely came so close to the school; this one must have been hungrier then usual to venture up out of the forest. He remembered what Antioch had told him the day they had fed the Thestrals – the winter was more bitter than usual, and such animals were likely to venture out of the forest. But for Ross to accept such an utterly ridiculous challenge...! He could hardly believe his best mate would do something so asinine.

Practically pushing Ansen aside, Ignotus began to sprint down the corridor, his mind racing faster then his feet. He had to get outside, to the lawns... He wasn't certain what he could do, but he had to do _something_...

The younger boy caught up with him, holding a stitch in his side. "Gaderian and Perseus tried to stop him," he cried, "but he wouldn't listen! He said Master Godric wouldn't have selected him if he weren't courageous and strong, and he's had it with the House of Black's barbs about Muggle-borns and how he's not as good as they are! Gaderian and Perseus went to find the Founders, if they can! You've got to stop him, Ignotus! You're the only one he'll listen to when he gets stubborn like this! If the Graphorn doesn't kill him, the Blacks will!"

Ignotus kept running, perfectly aware that no one could get through to Ross when he was in one of his stubborn moods. He had always been sensitive about his parentage, and more then once in the past five years had nearly come to blows with various students of Salazar Slytherin. Ignotus had always known that it would happen sooner or later; that it was only a matter of time before the straw broke the ox's back and Ross lost his temper enough to start a duel or do something equally stupid. Up 'til now, someone had always stepped in before Ross could get involved in a fight – usually one of the Founders, but if they were no where to be found...

A sudden thought occurred to him. Callisto had mentioned, right after Yule, how much Cantrella hated her cousins. Perhaps she would be able to step in. As he reached the marble stairs, he shouted, "Ansen! Find Callisto and Cantrella! Tell them what has happened!"

Ansen's shoulders dropped, for he was clearly exhausted from running so much, but he nodded weakly and turned to race back to the tower as Ignotus took the marble stairs two at a time. A few of Rowena and Helga's students were in the entrance hall, and they frowned at his pace, but he merely ignored them, burst through the oak doors, and began pelting down the long lawn towards the forest, his heart sinking as the sight came into view before him.

Ross was marching across the dead grass, seemingly _eons_ away, his shoulders squared and his head high, his wand clenched in his hand. The Graphorn, clearly agitated and furious, was pawing the ground with his head down. Any second, he would run for his target, and Merlin only knew if Ross would be able to dodge the attack. Several students of the House of Black were standing well away from the scene, upon an outcrop of rock, laughing and jeering horribly, and egging Ross on. Ignotus wondered why on earth his best mate had allowed them to get under his skin so badly that he would do something _this stupid_ to prove them wrong, but a sharp voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he, too, would have probably done something like this only five months ago himself, in order to prove a point. Hadn't he been determined back then to prove that he was as strong as his brothers? That he should have been allowed to fight in the Clan Wars? Wouldn't he have done _anything_ then in order to show his strength?

Suddenly his legs couldn't seem to carry him fast enough. A searing pain clenched in his chest from the effort of sprinting so far already, and he watched as Ross stopped and the Graphorn charged forward.

And then, in a wink of an eye, his world froze as he watched Ross fire a spell that rebounded off of the Graphorn's hide. His friend tried to fling himself out of the way at the last second, out of the aim of those long, deadly horns.

It was happening in slow motion. Ross was caught in midair, his body thrown high as the Graphorn tossed his head. An arch of blood stained the dead grass, and Salazar's students howled and cried out with unsuppressed, ruthless mirth.

Ignotus's mind went blank. He couldn't think or feel anything except an awful numbness that had paralyzed him. Had it really happened? It _couldn't_ be real. But his frozen state at what he had just seen only lasted a fraction of a second, because the sounds of the Blacks' laughter jolted him back to the horrible reality of what was unfolding before him. Anger rose within him like a snake and he shouted out, " _Stupefy_!" before he quite thought about it. The jet of red light collided with the Graphorn, which turned and slung Ross aside, off of one of it's horns, to find its new attacker.

Its eyes lit upon Ignotus, and he felt something sink inside of him. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he registered the Slytherin students' laughter growing louder as they realized his presence. He heard someone shout out that they would bet a Pureblood son of the House of Peverell could do better then a filthy, unworthy Mudblood that had deserved a slow death, and the Graphorn snorted in defiance. From the corner of his eye, Ignotus saw Ross stir feebly on the ground, gasping and grasping his side. The crimson of the blood was invisible against his red robes but bright against the icy ground and bright against his pale hand, and Ignotus knew he would need to defeat the beast quickly to help his friend.

**oOo**

"You need me there! Nothing you say will stop me!" Cantrella yelled.

"He _told_ you not to!" Callisto shouted back, ignoring the way green and gold sparks flew from the end of Cantrella's wand in anger. She could duel Cantrella if she had to; that was the least of her worries. Furious, she yelled, "Get back to the tower, 'Ella!"

But before Callisto could cast a Shield Charm between them and escape through the oaken front doors, her dearest friend darted in front of her in a whirl of red robes and black tresses.

Effectively blocking the way, Cantrella said in a low, frosty voice, "I _know_ my cousins, Callisto! I know how they think, I know how their hateful, twisted, evil minds work. You do too, for you can see their thoughts, but there are more of them than of us today, and until someone finds Master Godric...!"

Callisto felt her temper slipping away from her; her real emotions were too dangerously close to the surface. Real emotions that perhaps only Cantrella had ever truly seen, for she hid them even from her uncle as best she could. Cantrella was the only person who could understand, being a girl herself.

"If you fight," Callisto hissed, clenching her wand in one hand and grabbing Cantrella's robes with her other, to bring them face to face (for Cantrella was slightly taller than Callisto was), "we will have all-out war, Cantrella! He doesn't want that yet! No one knows Salazar's thoughts are at the moment, and –!"

"Herpo's evil sagging _arse_! Stop hiding behind that old argument – everyone _knows_ that Salazar hates the Muggle-borns! War is coming whether I fight today or not!" Cantrella snarled hotly. "And if we delay any longer, Ross and Ignotus will _both_ die! Salazar's students will see to it! I would wager my entire fortune that Salazar even put them up to it." Her voice dropped to a low whisper, despite the fact that there was no one else in the Entrance Hall at that moment to overhear the argument. "And so would your _uncle_. It will take both of us, Cal, to destroy that Graphorn. They cannot be defeated by a single witch or wizard!"

**oOo**

Ignotus could feel his breath coming in painful gasps. He knew he could not continue to avoid the Graphorn for much longer – it was too powerful and too fast. His spells and charms were doing little in the way of protecting him; rather, they were only annoying the beast further. It had turned into a sick game, for the Graphorn seemed intent on drawing the battle out and killing Ignotus as slowly as possible.

Behind him, he could hear Maponus Avery, Lycoris Malfoy, Brogan Lestrange, and the members of the House of Black – Cassiopeia, Druella, Moira, Orion, and Borealis – sneering and laughing worse then ever. Waiting for him to die. It was sport to them, to watch those they wished to eliminate die in such a fashion. They hadn't lifted a finger, and never would have to. And they were well far back enough from the fight to risk getting involved themselves, so they could always plead innocent when faced with punishment.

As the Graphorn rushed for him again, Ignotus wondered if it were worth dodging. He wondered where Ansen was, if he'd managed to find Callisto and Cantrella, or Master Godric. The instinct to survive made him throw himself aside at the last second, but his energy was so drained that it wasn't quite fast enough. He felt a searing hot pain in his side, heard the rip of fabric, felt the cold air bite his skin, felt the warm gush of blood as he rolled to the ground and tried to stagger to his feet. When his hand gripped his side, it came away covered in sticky red, and the Graphorn skidded to a halt thirty feet away, its nostrils flaring as it picked up the coppery scent.

He wouldn't be able to dodge again, and he doubted that any spell he hadn't yet tried would do any better then anything he _had_ tried thus far. He suddenly felt as though he were the worst in his class at Defense. All of his training was nothing in this battle. If he were unable to protect himself now, he wouldn't have been able to protect himself in the Clan Wars, either. His vision swam and the Graphorn pawed the ground and slung his head, his stained horns flashing. Ignotus wondered, briefly, what Antioch and Cadmus would do when they discovered what had taken place today. Would his brothers avenge his death? He didn't even think that the House of Black could stand against Antioch Peverell, if he were furious enough. Or Cadmus.

Ignotus lifted his wand, his arm unsteady and shaking terribly as he felt an unpleasant warmth seeping down his side to his hip and thigh. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ross's body on the ground, now completely still, lying in a large pool of red. Tears pricked his vision, blurring it worse then the physical pain. He couldn't believe Ross was _actually dead_ – only that morning they'd eaten breakfast together before Ignotus had gone to the locked chamber to work on the cloak. The night before they had joked by the fire about playing Shuntbumps when the weather turned warmer. Perhaps there was still a chance that Mistress Helga could save him. Or perhaps he would be with his best friend again soon enough, he thought dimly, and his arm slipped a bit as his knees gave out. He could apologize then; beg forgiveness for not spending more time with Ross these past two months, while he worked on a stupid challenge instead. What was the cloak worth, really, compared to his closest friend's life?

The Graphorn began to run, seemingly in slow motion. Ignotus felt his temple touch the cold grass as his body gave out, and he hoped that perhaps he would lose consciousness before the beast killed him. Even the shouts of laughter were growing faint.

Then suddenly, two flashes of light went over his head – one red, one gold, racing together and interlocking as they went. He heard a howl of pain from the Graphorn and felt the ground vibrate beneath his body as it was thrown to the earth. Dimly, he realized more then one person would have had to cast a spell to tackle the beast to the ground. He heard a distant shout of fury and felt another vibration, as though a powerful spell had gone off nearby, and he heard several screams of anger. Amidst the shouting and additional spells, a face swam above his, but he couldn't quite make it out. He saw several more flashes of light, but he was unable to discern where they were going or coming from. And from far, far away, he heard someone begging him to hold on.

**oOo**

Callisto's hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly hold her wand. There was blood _everywhere_ , all over him, the ground, _everything_. It was already on her dress and cloak and her hands, streaked on her face where she'd made the mistake of trying to push an errant curl out of her eyes to focus on him. It wasn't that she hadn't seen blood before, but _this_... This was _horrifying_. It took her eerily back to the day she watched her parents' deaths. She had no idea what to do, or how to stop the flow from his side. The wound was bad and he had lost enough in the seconds before she had reached him...

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a rough hand grab her shoulder and a moment later her uncle had knelt beside her, his face a contorted mixture of fury and panic. He was much paler than she had ever seen, completely drained and ashen. Then she realized she must _look_ like the young child that watched her parents' deaths from behind her mother's enchanted loom, rather than simply _feeling_ like that child, for she saw his teeth grit and his cheeks suffuse with sudden red.

"You must save him," he said, his voice quite and low and urgent. "Callisto, you've got to _try_ –!"

When she just stared back at him, mute and confused, he actually _shook her_ – the first time he had ever done so in her entire life.

" _Callisto_!" he snarled. "You've been studying healing spells for months now! You _can_ heal him; I know you can! You must concentrate! _Do it_!"

He was more desperate then she, because for once, perhaps for the only time ever, she knew more then he did. Perhaps it was Godric Gryffindor's desperation that brought her back to her senses. The thought that her uncle was so terrified and couldn't do anything snapped her mind into action. Her eyes slid back to Ignotus's body, sprawled on the ground. She took a shaky breath and held her wand out over the wound. Her numb lips trembling, she closed her eyes to the awful sight and began to mumble the incantations she had studied for her project – studied for _this_ purpose, so that when the inevitable war of Muggle-borns finally broke out officially between the legions of her uncle and Salazar Slytherin, she would have the knowledge to heal magical wounds so severe that Death would be a blessing for those who suffered. Knowledge to heal brave warriors that would be needed to return to the field of battle to protect the innocent. The reason she had selected the art of healing for her project was, in truth, to fight the war that had started so long ago – the war she had been dragged viciously into when she was a child of six summers. There were many who excelled at Defense. There were few who excelled at Healing. And magical cloaks would only do so much to protect their wearers. She had needed to learn this art.

As she cast her spells, she her Godric snap from behind her, " _No_ , Helga! She can do it! You must let her!"

A low groan escaped Ignotus's lips, and Callisto dared to open her eyes. The wound, still covered in blood, was slowly knitting back together. The spells were powerful, and though she had only learned them in theory, she had been able to put them into practice in this crucial moment. Shaking, she lifted her eyes to Cantrella, who was now standing opposite of her, on the other side of Ignotus's body. Her best friend's face was colorless, framed by long, wavy, rippling black hair. Her robes had been torn in several places and she sported one long cut along her cheek that marred the perfect whiteness with a faint red line – the only visible evidence she bore as the result of her battle with her cousins. She had taken on three of them at once, eagerly even, and two of them were lying unconscious on the ground nearby. The third was nursing a fractured arm and spiting out a furious tirade to Master Salazar, who was standing twenty feet away, looking positively livid. Gaderian and Perseus had arrived with the four Founders and, in fury, they had tried to assist Cantrella against Salazar's commands. They were now standing together, almost guiltily, waiting punishment for fighting.

Cantrella's eyes flickered away, and Callisto followed her gaze. Ross's body was lying nearby, and for a second, Callisto felt nauseated. She felt her uncle touch her shoulder again.

"There is nothing you can do for him now," he whispered in a choked voice. "But you have done well by Ignotus, Callisto."

"The healing spells you selected," Mistress Rowena added quietly, as she helped Callisto to shaky feet, "Were well studied. I hardly believe you will need to complete your demonstration at the end of the term, Miss Stewart. Would you now heal Miss Dreux, please?"

As Godric levitated Ignotus's body, Callisto lifted her arm again. It felt like lead, but before she could cast the spell, Cantrella quickly but gently grasped the end of Callisto's wand.

"No. I will bear it as a reminder of this day for the rest of my life. Do not heal it. I do not wish it."

Callisto was too numb to argue; it was as though the words were coming to her through a tunnel. Slowly, she nodded, and Cantrella released the end of the wand.

"Callisto!" Her uncle's voice broke her thoughts. "You'll be needed in the hospital wing if Cantrella does not require your services. Rowena would like your assistance." He added, "Cantrella! You will come with me!"

Callisto nodded again so he would know that she had heard him, but did not immediately follow. She watched as Salazar sent his students back to the castle: the ones sporting wounds to the hospital wing, and the ones sporting injured prides back to their common room. Salazar hissed at Gaderian and Perseus to return to their tower and await Godric's presence, for Salazar would certainly expel them if they were his students, but Godric would decide their punishments for their idiotic fighting.

Anger boiled in Callisto's veins, for he was not expelling his own students for their actions today. She knew Godric would not expel his, either. But the thought that Salazar would, and without second thought, only made her angrier. The man was so bias that she wished she were strong enough to kill him herself, sometimes.

She turned to Cantrella to express her outrage, but her friend had wandered over to where Ross's cold body lay twisted on the ground, despite Godric's order that Cantrella follow him. And immediately, Callisto's outrage faded into sadness and pain. For Cantrella, who was always so strong and never showed her weaknesses, had buried her face in her hands and was weeping silently, now that there was no one left on these parts of the lawns to see her do so.

Callisto knew that Cantrella had never told anyone the truth about her relationship with Ross, for Cantrella would be disowned once and for all when she finally did. Cantrella had been waiting, Callisto knew, until she and Ross finished school. She had even stopped Ross from expressing his own feelings the one time he had tried to tell her secretly how _he_ felt, demanding instead that he wait until Hogwarts was behind them. To Callisto's knowledge, this was the only secret that Ross had kept from Ignotus, and she only knew the secret because Cantrella had confided in her and Godric for advice. She knew that Cantrella and Ross had decided to wait, for once they left Hogwarts they would have a fraction of a chance, if even that much. A pureblood member of the House of Black and a Muggle-born that was outcaste by wizarding society would be shunned everywhere they went. But they would have had each other, if nothing else.

Now, it was too late.

Callisto felt a couple of tears slide down her own face, for there was nothing she could do to help her friend. And that hurt almost as much as the idea of losing Ignotus did.


	12. Chapter 12

****

## Hidden Magic

****

Somewhere nearby, he could hear furious shouting – but it was muffled, as though coming from an adjacent room and behind a closed door. Worse, he was drowsy and his brain felt sluggish, so he wasn't particularly able to focus on specific words or phrases. But then a door suddenly opened, and the shouting became crystal clear.

Ignotus jerked back to full consciousness and he would have sat up in bed, had not a firm hand pushed down on his shoulder and kept him in place. He realized he was in the sick ward, where Mistresses Helga and Rowena tended to those who fell ill or got hurt.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that it was Callisto holding him down, and he was momentarily confused and slightly disturbed. He had never seen her look so… _angry_. Not only that, but she was covered in _blood_ – it was smeared on her cheek, her hands, and her clothing, giving her a wild, strange, almost insane look that did not seem to fit her. Was it _her_ blood? Circe, help him, _no_ …

She had been watching the door, but when she noticed his horrified gaze, she shook her head once, indicating that he should remain in bed and not move. Her eyes flickered back towards the door at the end of the ward to continue listening to the awful conversation just outside of it.

"…Mr. Faintree was utterly foolish for allowing several other students to provoke him to the point that he was no longer in control of his emotions or rational thought. Perhaps all Muggle-borns are thus? Unable to control themselves because the _non-magical properties_ of their bodies and minds cannot cope with the magical?"

Godric's voice was already shouting over Salazar's theories before the older Founder had even finished speaking.

"…utterly ludicrous! Your students deliberately _provoked_ Ross! They knew exactly what they were doing and even _hoped_ he would die! A student of our school, Salazar, has died today because of _murder_! _Consciously committed murder_! And you will idly sit by and wave it away as though nothing has happened? This is unsupportable! If one of mine had killed one of yours, you would be demanding my blood, not sweeping it beneath a rug!"

Ignotus had never heard Godric sound so hateful in the few years he had known the man, and it was rather frightening – almost as frightening as how hateful Callisto's expression was as she continued to stare furiously at the partially open door. What was going on?

A flash of memory flickered through his mind and he felt his head swim dizzyingly. Ross's blood arching through the cold air, a Graphorn charging towards him…

"It is a most unfortunately occurrence, I daresay." Salazar Slytherin's voice was dry, as though he didn't believe it to be unfortunate in the least. "But what's done is done, Godric. I shall speak to my students, of course. You have my word on that."

"Yes, I'm sure you _will_ speak to them. And tell them to kill another Muggle-born, I suppose? Wait a few weeks, though, so Godric Gryffindor does not suspect anything!"

There was a deathly silence that followed this accusation. Beside Ignotus, Callisto had clenched her wand tightly as though preparing to cast a spell if needed, and he then realized with another jolt that Cantrella was standing in the shadows at the head of his bed, slightly out of his line of vision, backed against the wall.

Like Callisto, Cantrella's expression was one of sheer fury – as though she too were waiting for someone to walk through the door and confront her, even challenge her. He noted a long, singular, thin red line on her pristine cheek, and it made her look quite disturbing. Almost deranged.

What on earth was going on?

"Well," Salazar's voice said delicately, after a long moment, "If they were to do such a thing, I'm sure Miss _Druex_ would be more than eager to battle them. I wonder where she has learned such difficult offensive spells? Such as she was casting today are not taught at Hogwarts; I've reviewed your lesson plans for the students fifteen summers and older, and I've never seen such spells listed. Are you training her secretly, Godric?"

"If you are insinuating that I would teach Cantrella such offense, you are gravely mistaken," Godric's voice replied coldly. "Cantrella teaches herself such spells, because her cousins – your students! – refuse to leave her be, and she knows that in order to keep them at bay she must be more talented than they. I have seen your students use such spells myself, Salazar! Are _you_ teaching _them_?"

"Ah." Salazar sounded as though he believed nothing Godric had said.

Helga Hufflepuff's voice interrupted, and Ignotus started slightly to hear it, for he had not thought the other two founders present. But it made sense – one of them must have exited the ward and thus, opened the door. She said bitterly, "Stop this! Let us return to the issue at hand, shall we? I must agree with Godric, Salazar. Your students deliberately contemplated and carried out murder today. Cunningly, too – for they did it in such a way as to make it appear an accident, as though it were Ross's fault and not their own! But it does not erase nor hide the fact that they planned it. And such a thing cannot be tolerated within any school, and certainly not this one."

"You, Helga, will side with Godric on most anything," Salazar said disdainfully. "You always do. Muggle-borns are a threat to our society and yet, like Godric, you willingly allow them into our school. They are destroying our magical heritage! Can you both not _see_ this? I have told you time and again, and you refuse to acknowledge the facts! Regardless if my students goaded Mr. Faintree, the truth remains that it was _his_ decision to listen to them and follow them! As I said – it is as though he had no mind of his own, for the magical and non-magical do not mix! Yet you still allow such tainted blood to enter our school and steal our secrets –!"

"Salazar, do you hear yourself?" Helga cried. "The only reason Muggle-borns exist is because somewhere, back in their family line, a witch or wizard copulated with a Muggle! They did not _steal_ magic, or bargain their soul for it, or somehow randomly become infused with it! It is engrained, as it always has been! They are as magical as a pureblood witch or wiza –"

"You are wrong, Helga! You would place them on equal status with a pureblood, which they most certainly are _not_. They will never be a pureblood, or as good as one! Their so-called _magic_ , if you _will_ call it such, is completely inferior!"

All at once, the Founders started yelling over each other to the point that Ignotus could distinguish nothing of the shouting. Beside him, Callisto and Cantrella eyed each other nervously; he heard Cantrella murmur something and saw the sharp twitch of her wand, followed by a faint disturbance in the air about his bed. Callisto's shoulders relaxed only slightly at the protection spell, but neither put their wands away.

" _Enough_!"

The fourth voice, harsh and abrasive, cut the shouting short. It was Rowena Ravenclaw's, and Ignotus hardly dared to breathe.

"Enough," she repeated, suddenly and oddly her usual calm, serene self – as though she had never shouted at all. "This arguing will get us nowhere –"

"Placid as usual, Rowena," Helga mused sarcastically.

It seemed uncharacteristic, Ignotus thought. Completely against the norm, for Helga Hufflepuff was always so gracious and gentle. Never _sarcastic_. And for Rowena Ravenclaw to _shout_? It was as though the world had suddenly gone mad…!

Helga went on, "You are always putting a stop to such discussions. Perhaps one day, you should refrain from interfering and allow them to get out of hand."

"Allow them to get out of hand? Why? So that everything will fall apart? No, Helga," Rowena said bitterly. "I am trying to see the situation in reason. Allowing any discussion to get out of hand prevents reason, which is illogical and pointless."

"No, you are trying to play the peacemaker, and by doing so, postponing the inevitable," Helga snapped.

Godric interrupted, his tone icy. "Now the two of _you_ are avoiding the issue at hand. A student – one of _my students_ , is _dead_! What, Rowena, do you propose I should do about it? Return to my students and explain to them that it is acceptable for Salazar's students to murder at will? That purebloods are allowed to do whatever the hell they want, because their blood status exempts them from law or justice? Just what sort of school are we running, if we allow such to happen?"

"I did not say that, Godric." Rowena's voice was low. "Nor will you _ever_ hear me say it."

"Then you too, Rowena, side with Godric!" Salazar snarled.

"I side with no one," Rowena answered frostily. "I am trying to view the issue from the outside!"

"Which is really even worse," Helga complained.

Rowena's voice lost its calm demeanor and took on an exasperated, angry tone. "Helga, _really_!"

"In any case," Salazar said loudly, overriding her before Rowena could argue further, "we should take this conversation where _prying ears cannot hear it_!"

And without any sort of warning, the door to the sick ward banged shut, making Ignotus, Callisto, and Cantrella jump slightly. Silence reigned: an oppressive, smothering silence that shivered about them and felt heavy and cold. Some sort of spell had been cast to prevent them from hearing anything outside of the room.

Salazar knew they had been listening.

After a long pregnant pause, Ignotus whispered, "What on earth is happening?"

The two girls beside his bed exchanged dark glances, but neither seemed to want to answer his question.

"Tell me!" he insisted. "What is truly taking place here? Ross was killed today, but _why_? I knew there were those who despised the Muggle-born, but I never knew it was this huge an issue! That Salazar Slytherin would allow his students to commit _murder_ for it?"

After a long, faltering moment, Cantrella stated baldly, "Tell him, Callisto."

Callisto's face instantly became mask-like. "I don't have permission yet."

But Cantrella shook her head, almost wearily, and spoke before Ignotus could argue. "It is no longer about permission. It has gone beyond that. Ross is dead." Her voice choked slightly. "Ignotus deserves the truth. If you do not tell him, then _I_ will. War isn't _coming_. It's already _here_ , and we _need_ Ignotus. Helga spoke of the inevitable. She is right – the Founders of Hogwarts are falling apart as we speak."

Callisto briefly glared at Cantrella, but after a long moment she sighed and her expression became worried. She whispered, "Very well." Her shoulders slumped and she went on, in a quiet voice, "It has been this way for some time now. For nearly ten years. But Cantrella is right – now, war has truly broken out. Godric will see to it that Salazar pays for this, and Salazar will not stand by idly and allow Godric to gain the upper hand."

"But I thought the Founders were the best of friends."

"Once. But that was a long time ago. For years now, Salazar has been persecuting Muggle-borns, and Master Godric…" Callisto trailed off, as though seeking the right words.

Cantrella took over the thread of conversation instead. "Master Godric has been trying to prevent that," she explained. "Which means that the two are effectively pitted against each other. The two greatest wizards of our time are fighting, you see, and at some point they will end it. Thus far, they merely dance around each other, turning a blind eye to the fact that they are in league against each other. When once… Once, yes, they were the closest of friends. But Helga is right. It is now falling apart completely. Nothing will stop that, not even Rowena's reasoning."

"We are at war, Ignotus," Callisto went on. "And we have been for a long time. Salazar's warriors, all wishing to eradicate Muggle-borns…and Godric's warriors, wishing to save them. Thus far, it has been a silent war, for neither side wishes the wizarding world at large to learn of it. But we need all the help we can get, and we – those of us fighting against Salazar, I mean – we were hoping that you might wish to join us, one day. Both sides have secretly been recruiting warriors. You are the strongest in our year when it comes to Defense and Offense, and Uncle Godric's side is sorely in need of fighters. Salazar has the House of Black behind him, and they will stop at nothing to gain their objectives."

His vision warped slightly and his head gave a particularly bad throb. Had she said… _Uncle Godric_?

"Wait – _what_?" he stammered.

**oOo**

Before Ignotus, the cloak he was weaving gleamed bright silver, stretched out in the moonlight. But Ignotus hardly noticed the shimmer of light upon the fabric.

His head still ached – not from his injuries from earlier in the day, but from the information he had gleaned from Callisto and Cantrella.

Salazar Slytherin, out to murder Muggle-borns and no longer friend of Godric Gryffindor.

Godric Gryffindor, Callisto's mysterious _uncle_ , trying to _save_ the Muggle-borns, and no longer friend of Salazar Slytherin.

That Salazar had ordered the murder of Callisto's parents, which was carried out before her very eyes when she was but six summers old.

How Cantrella was suspected by her own family of siding with Godric's forces, and was forced to cast heavy protection spells about her own bedchambers in her family's castle when she was at home during the holidays, lest one of the members of the infamous House of Black attempt to murder her in her sleep. For she was, in truth, one of Godric's most powerful allies – in wealth and ability. And Salazar was very aware of it, as was her family – most of which had sided with Salazar.

That Cantrella and Ross had been in love, something Ross had never revealed to Ignotus, and Ignotus had been stunned to learn about – even more stunned, perhaps, than anything else.

Unless it was the fact that Godric was Callisto's _uncle_ , and that Callisto was hoping Ignotus might join their forces and help them protect Muggle-borns, so that another tragedy such as Ross's would not occur again.

The conversation had only ended when Antioch had burst into the room. Ignotus's eldest brother had looked positively drained of blood, as white as marble, and he practically ran the length of the room to his brother's bedside. He had demanded Callisto and Cantrella tell him what had happened and if his brother would live. Familial duty pushed even his cool aloofness aside, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Ignotus saw Antioch's real nature, stark and vulnerable and laid bare. The eldest of the three Peverell brothers accepted his duties, especially towards his family, in a way that Cadmus nor Ignotus could ever imagine. And he loved Ignotus so deeply that, while he mayn't show his affection openly, he could not bear the thought of Ignotus being hurt or killed.

However, as soon as he was satisfied that his brother was safe, his demeanor changed. He angrily forbade Ignotus to seek out any of Salazar's students for revenge, for all were in uproar. Salazar, he'd stated coldly, was in a terrible fury and his students were angry with Godric for whatever he had done to provoke Salazar. They would, undoubtedly, try to attack anyone who even dared to look at them the wrong way.

Cadmus came in at that point, also pale and concerned, but not out of love for his brother. It turned out that he was mostly furious at Ignotus for trying to save a Muggle-born student. When Ignotus had protested that Ross had been his closest friend, Cadmus had angrily snarled that his brother should never have befriended a Mudblood in the first place, and by doing so had tainted his reputation.

It had been as though a curtain was pulled away from Ignotus's eyes. His brother, Cadmus, _despised_ Muggle-borns. He always had, and in a way, Ignotus had always known it, but it was suddenly and painfully obvious. Was Cadmus working for Salazar? Would Antioch join Salazar's side, because Salazar was his Founder and his favorite teacher? Would Ignotus have to fight his brothers at some point in the future, because they disagreed with his choice that Muggle-borns shouldn't be persecuted because of their lineage? Would war separate the family his father had strived so hard for?

A sudden thought had struck him then: Once, the Founders had been the best of friends. And this very afternoon had proven that friendships do, in fact, sometimes dissolve. That ties, regardless of strength, can break violently. Familial ties were no less likely to break than those of friendship.

Ignotus pressed his palms to his eyes, until the darkness erupted into tiny stars and pinpricks of light. It was far too much information. He had not dreamed any of it could possibly exist, except perhaps that Salazar detested Muggle-borns and Godric did not. He could not even quite comprehend that Ross was dead – his best friend, whom he had come to rely on the past few years and cared for and joked with and studied with and thought of like a brother.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind spoke up: _Ah yes, your best friend, who did not even tell you he was in love with Cantrella._

Ignotus tried to ignore the voice. Ross had not told anyone. It wasn't that his friend didn't trust him; it was that the idea of a Pureblood witch from the House of Black and a Muggle-born wizard with no real family, being in love with each other, was unthinkable.

_And why had Callisto never told him that Godric was her uncle?_ The little voice niggled. _Maybe she does not think you can be trusted, either._

He tried to ignore that as well; Callisto couldn't very well tell him or anyone else that Godric was her uncle. But still, it did seem as though everyone had been keeping secrets from him, and he hated that, too. He clenched his fists until his fingernails dug painfully into his palms. Anything, even physical pain, to distract him…

He was so deep in thought, so distraught by it all that he did not notice when someone sat down beside him upon the bench until the shadow shifted. He nearly pulled his wand, before he realized it was Godric.

There was a heavy, thick silence. Ignotus awkwardly lowered his wand, as though he hadn't been attempting to hex his Founder, but Godric did not reprimand him for it.

Then after what seemed like ages, the older man murmured, "You are not untrustworthy, Ignotus. It is I who am to blame, for not allowing Callisto to tell you sooner. Her lineage has been kept secret for a reason – not because of you, but because of what I fear Salazar would do."

Ignotus tried not to flinch at the words, and said nothing.

"I am a poor teacher, are I not?" Godric went on sadly. "I am unable to protect my students, unable to stop Salazar from murdering within this very school… I am sorry, Ignotus, that I have not lived up to anyone's expectations, least of all mine."

"That isn't true, sir." Ignotus stared at the half-finished cloak, unable to look his Founder in the face. "You could not guess everyone's intentions, and no one can stop the House of Black from doing what they wish. I suppose they _are_ above the law, aren't they? No one can stop them, it seems. But you aren't to blame for their decisions and actions. And you aren't Master Salazar's keeper, either."

"I have been fighting him for so long now, that it seems surreal he was once my closest companion, years ago. Back then, when we were young, I would never, ever have suspected him of this sort of treachery and hatred. We were the closest of friends, much as yourself and Mr. Faintree were. Salazar and I were inseparable; we did everything together. We planned this school together and built it together. And now, it is as if I have never known him at all."

"I cannot imagine," Ignotus said hollowly. "I try to think of hating Ross in such a manner, and it is impossible for me to do so."

"And yet, you worry that he hid secrets from you, as well." Godric did not smile; indeed, he looked so weary, so dejected, and so hopeless, that Ignotus felt pity for his Founder, instead of anger.

"Why didn't he tell me he loved Cantrella? He never once mentioned anything of the sort to me."

"But you know the answer."

Ignotus nodded sadly. "Yes, I think I do. And now I hurt for her, because she refuses to allow her emotions to be seen."

"A Black family trait. For all she is my student, for all she disagrees with her family's decisions and ways, she retains their inherit mannerisms. She knows that if she were to show weakness of any sort, her family would destroy her. So she remains haughty and fearless."

"I cannot imagine my family hating me so."

Godric was silent for a long moment, but when he spoke again, it was grave. "I fear, one day, that you will very well know the feeling. Your brothers do not have the open-mindedness towards Muggle-borns that you have, and they will not approve if you decide to join a fight to protect Muggle-borns."

"Then I must choose, mustn't I? Between my family…or the war. I wonder what my father would have wanted me to do, and I think he would prefer I choose the side of good." He ran his fingers over the threads in the loom. He had thought – ages ago now it seemed! – that the cloak was a way to escape Death. To slip away unnoticed when he might be faced with dying, because Death had frightened him so when his father had been killed. That one moment, you could be alive, and the next, you could be gone. But he had been wrong. Or he just hadn't fully understood. There was more to it than just escape. He had faced a Graphorn today – a Graphorn that had killed his best friend – and he had nearly died himself. He had not once thought of the cloak for protection, or wished he'd had it with him. He had not been as afraid of dying as he'd thought he would be, several months ago. He had only thought to save Ross, regardless if it meant losing his own life.

Was the cloak even worth completing?

Godric's voice seemed far away. "You must do what _you_ feel is right. Not what you think your father would have felt was right, or I feel is right, or what Callisto feels is right. You are the only person who can decide the path you will take." The older man rose from the bench and gazed down at the cloak. "And whatever your decision, we will accept it."

Ignotus heard his teacher turn, he heard the footsteps across the floor, and he heard the door open and close. Then he was alone again – alone with his thoughts and the loom and the half-finished cloak.

He stood up slowly, and walked around to the other side of the loom, where the finished portion of fabric was sparkling in the moonlight. He knelt and lifted it in his hands. It was feather-light and flowed over his fingers like water. He stood up with it and leaned over the loom, down at the threads still connected into the apparatus. They were waiting for him to start work again, to finish what he had begun.

And, unbidden, he began to cry.

It was almost as though he had never cried before in his life. The tears wouldn't _stop_ ; they felt as though they would _never_ stop. He cried so hard that he doubled up upon himself, clutching the silky fabric as though he would tear it to pieces. He knew, distantly, that his tears were dampening the threads within the loom, and that they would likely be impossible to work with if they were wet; yet he didn't care in the least. He thought of Ross, and he simply cried harder. His best friend was dead, and he would never hear his voice again, or see him laugh over a jest, or look annoyed at a teasing remark. His father was dead and could no longer offer advice on what Ignotus should do next. Should he join Godric's fight against Salazar, and save Muggle-born witches and wizards from dying as Ross had died? Or should he sit back and do nothing, to prevent his brothers from hating him and turning on him? He sank to the stone floor and buried his face in the fabric he held, desperate to stop the ache inside of him that seemed to eat away at his body.

And then –

"Stop, _stop_! _Please_! You'll suffocate yourself –!"

Small hands were suddenly pulling frantically at his, trying to take the fabric away from him. He shook his head and choked back another sob, but the hands succeeded despite his efforts to ignore them.

And then slender arms were around his neck. He let the fabric go and grasped at the body against his, and he kept crying. Dimly, he knew that he held Callisto – she was the only other person aside from Godric who knew the charms to enter this room. She was gently stroking his hair, shushing him. And after a long while, his tears began to slow and he found that he was gasping for breath – he had cried so hard that he could barely breath, and it made sense that she would be so concerned that he might suffocate himself. Not from the thin fabric pressed to his face, but from his own tears.

"I'll n-never see him a-again," he whispered, drawing away from her and looking down. The Demiguise fabric was pooled in his lap; still connected into the loom and damp from his crying. Despite his clawing fingers, he had not actually torn it.

Callisto looked miserable. "No," she whispered. "At least, not in this world."

His shoulders dropped heavily. "I'm sorry for crying so."

"Never be sorry for crying. Crying is not the absence of strength. It is the presence of it."

He ran the fabric between his fingers. "I should just chunk this. It's worthless. I don't need it. I didn't once think of it out there today."

" _No_! You spent a fortune on it! And it's your project. You _must_ finish it!" She sounded alarmed that he would consider otherwise.

"Why? What is its purpose? I do not know any more. I started weaving a cloak of invisibility because I was afraid of Death. And yet, I wasn't afraid to die today, as I thought I would have been a few months ago. So I don't understand why it's important to finish this anymore."

Callisto said seriously, "It still may protect you from Death one day. Finish it, Ignotus. You are not one to quit that which you begin. Finish it for Ross's sake. Finish it out of your love for him as your friend."

Ignotus sighed deeply, but then suddenly, he sat up straight and stared at the loom. Something had just clicked within his brain – it was as though the pieces of a riddle had instantly come together. It was alarming and amazing all at once, and he gasped at the realization. It was so _simple_ , and yet so _illusive_.

"What's wrong?" Callisto asked, gazing at him in concern.

" _Love_ ," he said, his mouth dropping open in surprise. He staggered to his feet and leaned back over the loom, and ran his fingers over the threads within.

"What about it?"

"After the last debate, you told me to finish the cloak in Love. And it just occurred to me, that if there is any enemy that Death cannot overpower, it is _Love_. If I finish the cloak in hopes of merely _defeating_ Death, it would be pointless – utterly pointless! The cloak would never work at all, if that were the case. But if I finish it out of Love, then…" He trailed off, and his fingers danced over the fabric. Excitedly, he whispered, " _Circe_ , is it that _easy_? Master Godric told me of untapped magic… of magic that moves the universe…"

Callisto looked confused. "But it is untapped for a reason – such magic works beyond that which we do. It moves the universe; we do not move it."

"Agreed," Ignotus said, turning to face her, as though in a debate discussion and not as though they were cloistered in a locked room with a Demiguise pelt turned into a fabric upon a loom, or that he had just lost his best friend and the Founders were breaking apart, threatening their school's very existence. "But if the universal magic _allows_ us to tap into it, then that would be a different situation entirely."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"I mean… If the universe gives me the ability to tap a tiny fraction of its magic… just this once, and maybe never again! Then perhaps… Then, this cloak would truly work wonders."

He moved quickly to the opposite side of the loom and sat down again, carefully checking the threads. Callisto hurried around to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ignotus, wait – you are exhausted, you need to rest before working again."

"I'll be up shortly," he promised, smiling at her. "I want to set it properly again. I've been tugging it at it and I don't need to rip it. Not now. Not when I'm this close."

She looked uncertain. "I'll wait on you."

He nodded, wanting to agree with her so she wouldn't distrust _him_ , and focused on the loom.

He would finish the cloak out of his love as a friend for Ross. And if the mysterious universal magic worked at all, as the Founders hinted that it did, the cloak would be a truly amazing object. It just _might_ be able to defeat Death – a power Cadmus had alluded to during Christmas, when he suggested creating the Hallows. But Ignotus was determined that the cloak should be the most important of the three objects.

Unlike his brothers, he suspected that he knew the key to the secret.

**oOo**

Antioch lay upon his bed on his back, seething furiously. The day had been a nightmare, it truly had. He couldn't remember being this angry in his life, not even when Cadmus had blundered about on the battlefields in the north. And the trouble was, he was angry with practically _everyone_.

He was angry with his housemates for their childish, cruel jesting that had led to the events of the afternoon. He was angry with the four Founders for having a heated argument about blood purity in a corridor where any number of students had likely overheard, before Salazar finally led his colleagues to a private council chamber on the seventh floor. He was angry with Ignotus for having befriended a Muggle-born in the first place; otherwise, Ignotus would never have been involved in the situation.

The Peverell family's views on blood purity were split at best – Antioch had seen the invisible battle lines drawn for several years. Corvus Peverell had never been as concerned with blood purity as the Black family was, primarily because he was Godric's friend and the two shared this particular viewpoint. In fact, Corvus had advocated Muggle-borns to the extent that he felt it necessary for them to learn to control their magic and be trained, just as any pureblood witch or wizard. Nor did it matter to him if Muggle-borns were admitted to Hogwarts – which was something that their mother actually felt very strongly about.

"They are not purebloods," she had complained one night at dinner, the summer Antioch had turned eleven years of age. "They will never be as good as our sons! It would be best for them to learn elsewhere, amongst their own kind! Why must they be admitted to Hogwarts? It is a school for witches and wizards, not Muggle-borns! There should be _two_ schools –"

Corvus had started arguing before she had finished: "They must learn of our world, Quilla, for they are a part of it! The Black family and others would have us believe that Muggle-borns stole magic, but it is only because they are too narrow-minded to see the truth. They believe themselves gods, the Black family do, and they will one day learn that they are not. Just as they will eventually learn that Muggle-borns pose no danger to us. Muggle-borns are as much wizards and witches as purebloods; they were born because a witch or wizard partnered with a Muggle."

Growing up, and especially after he started studying at Hogwarts, Antioch had been torn in his views of Muggle-borns. When he was sorted into Salazar's house, he had come face to face with the stark reality his father had mentioned: the powerful House of Black truly felt Muggle-borns were filthy, dirty, fourth-rate scum and should be eradicated. Still, his upbringing prevented Antioch from stooping as low as some; he would never use the term _Mudblood_ if he could help it, for he felt it was vulgar and base. One who used such a term was no better than the person they were referring to by using it. Of course, he did not share the same view as the others of Salazar's house, and he knew he was in a gross minority when it came to the issue of blood purity. As a result, he had developed an attitude of neutrality that annoyed Salazar, but at least kept Antioch out of verbal battles with his housemates.

Cadmus, on the other hand, had swung as far in the opposite direction as the pendulum would allow: he detested those of Muggle parentage and exerted no effort to veil his views from anyone – not even from his family. He and Corvus had argued heatedly on more than one occasion about Muggle-borns, and Antioch had (as always) remained neutral, refusing to get involved in their spats. Cadmus was entitled to his own opinion, after all. Their parents were there to guide them, but it wouldn't be the first case in which a child disagreed with their parent's views, nor it wouldn't be the last. Still, Antioch felt Cadmus's actions when he arrived at Hogwarts were utterly unfounded; the middle Peverell brother would often deliberately knock into Muggle-borns to make them drop their books, or trip them up on the stairs, or complain loudly if one bumped into him that he didn't want their grubby little Mudblood paws touching his person. And he had only gotten worse as he had gotten older.

And then there was Ignotus – as opposite from Cadmus as anyone could be. Blood purity didn't bother him in the least, and within a day of arriving at Hogwarts, he had befriended Godric Gryffindor's foundling protégée, Ross Faintree. Corvus approved of the friendship whole-heartedly ( _"You can help him, Ignotus, as he learns about our world – his world! – and becomes a part of it!"_ ), Quilla had been uncertain ( _"We know nothing about him, Corvus, even if Godric has helped the boy!"_ ), Antioch had been slightly annoyed but silent, and Cadmus downright furious ( _"He'll taint our reputation and our family name by befriending such filth!"_ ) – which had caused yet another argument between Cadmus and Corvus at Yuletide when they went home for the holidays that year.

But back then Antioch would never have expected Ignotus's friendship with Ross to thrust the youngest Peverell brother right into Godric's camp of the Blood War.

Antioch had known of the Blood War for several years; Salazar and Serpentia had tried, on more than one occasion, to sway him to join their side of the fight. He had refused, because he knew his father would greatly disapprove. Salazar had been faintly irritated, but had not pressed the issue nor assumed that Antioch would be a liability; or at any rate, if he had, he hadn't shown his true feelings. But then, Antioch knew perfectly well that Salazar was a master of masking a lot of different emotions and opinions. Still, if he had been considered a liability, Salazar would have eliminated him before now.

Cadmus would have been Salazar's best bet, had he wished to convenience a member of the Peverell House to join the Purebloods' fight. And yet, to Antioch's knowledge, Salazar had not approached Cadmus. Antioch felt sure that if Salazar had asked Cadmus to join his side of the fight, Cadmus would have willingly done so – if for no other reason than to anger Corvus. The most likely answer was that perhaps Salazar felt Cadmus would be the real liability, or that his capability to fight in a battle was not good enough. Both views were obvious to Antioch, for Cadmus could indeed be a liability. He was so bloody arrogant, and last summer's experiences had taught Antioch that his brother was a poor fighter in battle.

Antioch sighed heavily. Ignotus would not listen to him at this point – it was fruitless to believe otherwise. Antioch rolled to his feet and crossed the small dormitory to his desk, upon which lay the wand he was creating. It looked perfectly innocent lying there on the desk, and yet, Antioch knew it wasn't innocent at all. He would have to master it to wield it; this object he was creating. And he would have to master it soon – before the Blood War really erupted and Ignotus was battling against the ruthless members of the House of Black and the other purebloods that wished to eradicate Muggle-borns.

He reached for the wand to begin his work again, when the dormitory door suddenly opened.

Serpentina stepped in, wearing a long traveling cloak, her expression masked and calm.

Antioch frowned at her, but did not ask questions. As soon as she had closed the door, she drew her wand and cast a silent spell upon it to block unwanted listeners or interruptions. Then she turned back to Antioch.

"Father has decided to leave this place," she said, her voice low and quiet and slightly cool.

Antioch said nothing. He was not terribly surprised; the fight earlier had been an accumulation of years of tension and anger, and Salazar was most likely tired of dancing around Godric, Rowena, and Helga. All of the Founders wished, in their own way, to run the school how they saw fit, and were no longer united in a common goal.

"He has not told anyone, save for myself. You will not speak of it outside of this room."

Annoyance surged in him at her order, but he kept his voice even. "And are you leaving as well?"

"Yes. I cannot remain here without father; I would be a target without his protection."

Antioch refrained from pointing out that she could protect herself without Salazar's help, or that Godric Gryffindor was not so cruel as to deliberately try and attack her just because she was Salazar's daughter. Instead, he inclined his head stiffly and said, "Then I wish you well."

She hesitated, and then said, "You could come with us, Antioch."

For a fleeting instant, he thought of it. Disappearing with Serpentina and Salazar, heaven only knew where, away from this place and away from the internal fighting of blood purity and superiority. But the reality of it was harsher than any daydream; if he accompanied the two of them, he would effectively be in their camp of the Blood War. There would be no returning home to his mother, and he would become estranged from Ignotus. And he would never have the opportunity to complete the wand he had spent over half a year working on, to take revenge for his father's death.

After a long moment, he shook his head. "No. I cannot accompany you, and you are well aware of it. I have other responsibilities, other duties. You knew this when you asked me; did you expect I would toss my life and ambitions aside to become a puppet for your father? I value his opinions and his wisdom, and he has been a powerful and great teacher, but I am my own person and I cannot be a servant to another."

Her eyes flashed at his words, her wand hand twitched, but otherwise she did not retaliate – though he knew she wanted to. She snarled, "No, I suppose you could not. You are a servant to your work, and that takes precedence to everything else, doesn't it?"

Antioch chose not to respond to that, either.

Annoyed by his silence, she pressed on. "That wand controls you, Antioch. I said it before, and I will say it until you die. It will possess you and eventually kill you, either by force or cunning manipulation."

"If you believe such a thing," he answered delicately, "than I would serve your father quite poorly indeed. For by your words, I am a slave to the wand and could never be a slave to another."

"Not even me? I thought you loved me."

The words sounded bitter. It was strange that she should even believe in love, he thought. She was all logic and twisting cunning, so much like her father. Had she actually loved him once? They had been a good coupling at one time, knowing what the other wanted and needing nothing more than the necessary physical attraction to sate lust in order to continue their work within the school more efficiently. But he had never thought she truly loved him, for Serpentina was not the type of person who believed in happy endings or true love. She believed in herself and expanding the mind and intelligence, or using people to obtain her way…but not love.

Slowly, he answered, "I did. But sometimes… love changes. You are siding with your father, and I have a family to protect. You do not need protection as they do. So I must bid you goodbye, and wish you well."

She turned and left without another word. Antioch exhaled slowly and picked up the wand, twisting it over in his fingers. He had made his choice, and he could not regret it now that it was done. Regret would only get in the way of the task he needed to complete. He wondered vaguely what would happen when the other Founders discovered that Salazar had betrayed the school and left. Salazar wasn't fleeing, but he _was_ turning his back upon those he had once counted as colleagues.

The war was truly upon them now, Antioch thought grimly, and there was no repairing the past.


	13. Chapter 13

****

## Challenges Presented

****

At first, no one quite believed Salazar's mysterious disappearance to be true, despite the odd message burning eerily upon the wall in one of the corridors.

_Enemies of the Heir, Beware! The Monster within the Secret Chamber lies dormant, but one day, it will awaken and purge Hogwarts of those moste unworthy._

Antioch scowled when he'd first seen the message – was this Salazar's way of frightening everyone within the castle? For if so, he had succeeded well. Other students were positively terrified, even though no one had any idea what the message meant. What was this monster Salazar had mentioned? Had anyone seen it? What was the Secret Chamber? Was it some place within the school? No one had even heard of such a place before, and the Founders had built the school together, so surely if a "secret chamber" existed, the other three Founders would be aware of it…wouldn't they? And who were the "enemies of the heir"?

Antioch, more privy to goings-on of the blood wars than the vast majority of the school, assumed the "enemies" referred to Godric Gryffindor and his followers, those fighting against Salazar for the inclusion of Muggle-borns in the magical community. But that still left other questions. What was this dormant monster, and who was the mysterious "heir"? Serpentina was only eighteen summers and she had no children as of yet, and Salazar had no other children aside from his daughter.

Not even the remaining Founders seemed to know the answer to these questions; although granted, the other three Founders were not on the best of terms right now.

Godric was surly and unapproachable, Helena was sullen and snappish, and Rowena was cool and distant.

Antioch rather thought they were being childish and impossible, when they should have been setting a unified example to their students – especially those who had originally studied beneath Master Salazar. Though a few of Salazar's students had also left the school (taken out by their pureblood parents), the ones remaining were completely untrusting of anyone outside their own fold. Those from the House of Black had decided to stay, to spy upon Master Godric for Salazar. But from the discussions in the common room beneath the lake, Antioch got the impression that the rest were frightened that the other Founders might try to murder them, or order them to leave.

Absolutely disgusted with the way the entire situation was unfolding, Antioch had visited Godric over this particular issue. Godric had listened intently to Antioch's brief concerns, and then promised he would speak to the student body that evening to dispel any fears of being ordered to leave or, heaven forbid, murdered. He was true to his word, and while it was unclear if his message was received well by Slytherin's students, Antioch knew his part in the affair was now terminated. He had more important things to think about, like finishing the wand.

However, he couldn't help but notice that over the next couple of weeks, other students were seen doing the oddest things. A few were using spells against walls, doors, and floors; others were snooping in nooks and crannies. It finally dawned on him that all were apparently trying to discover the mysterious Chamber and destroy the monster within. Godric finally put a stop to this particular bit of idiocy by announcing, again at dinner one evening, that the remaining Founders had searched the school quite thoroughly, and no trace of any hidden, secret chamber or a monster had been discovered. Salazar's message on the wall had simply been a tactic to scare the students, and Godric reminded them not to allow fear to consume their minds, for they were here at Hogwarts to learn magic.

Antioch wasn't certain whether to believe him or not – surely, if Salazar had left a mysterious chamber and monster, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff should have been able to locate it. Wouldn't they? But then, Salazar was an incredible wizard himself, and it was possible that he had done exactly as the message said without the others discovering his actions. It was all certainly very strange.

Still, the wand required most of his attention, for he had nearly completed it. The message had only been a distraction, and the other students were putting too much energy into it instead of their studies. He did notice that his brothers didn't seem remotely interested in the message – Cadmus was rarely seen throughout the second term, and as for Ignotus, Antioch was starting to believe that he had long since finished the invisibility cloak and not told anyone, for he never seemed to catch even a glimpse of his youngest brother throughout the spring.

Over the next couple of months, the excitement over the mysterious message gradually died down. The message itself began to fade from the wall, and by April, it was barely visible.

Then, in early May, Rowena Ravenclaw announced to the students that their projects were due in two weeks, and reminded them that shoddy workmanship would not be tolerated.

Most of the students were eager to present their completed projects, though a few were starting to panic because they had not been putting the appropriate effort into their studies.

Antioch found he didn't particularly care. He would present his wand, which was almost finished now… but once he left the school, he would have more important things to consider than Salazar's message or the Founders' challenges.

He would set out to kill Athol, and avenge his father.

**oOo**

Ignotus was surprised when an owl fluttered down to his plate at breakfast the morning after Rowena's announcement about the presentation of challenges. It was a school owl, and the message was on a small scroll of parchment. He pulled it free and read it, and was even more surprised by the message.

_Meet in smallest dungeon at midnight. ~CP_

Ignotus glanced towards the table of Rowena's students, but Cadmus was not present, so he glanced towards the table of Salazar's students. To his further surprise, he realized Antioch also had an owl; his older brother was reading a small missive as well.

"What is that?" Callisto's voice broke his concentration.

"A message from Cadmus. He desires me to meet him tonight. Antioch too, by the looks of it." Ignotus folded the note and slipped it into his pocket.

Callisto's brow furrowed. "About what?"

Ignotus shrugged. "I've no idea," he lied, and proceeded to eat a kipper. "Must be a family matter."

Fortunately, Callisto didn't press the matter.

**oOo**

Cadmus did not have long to wait in the dungeons, for upon the stroke of midnight, Antioch silently slipped into the room.

Cadmus nodded to him politely. "Thank you for coming," he said. Then, in surprise, he asked, "What in heaven has happened to your hands?"

His older brother bore bandages on nearly all of his fingers and around his left hand, and Cadmus was shocked that any wound Antioch had sustained could not be healed with a simple charm.

Antioch's face was hidden in shadow; it was impossible to tell his expression. His tone was flat, hiding any emotion. "The wand proved…extremely difficult…to carve. For some reason, the wounds it inflicted upon me during the process aren't healing properly. I've tried several charms with no effect."

Cadmus frowned slightly. "How odd."

"It is a minor inconvenience." Antioch withdrew the new wand from inside his cloak with a flourish. "And a worthy price for creating the most powerful wand in the Isles."

"Then you _have_ completed it…"

"I have."

"I have also completed my project, but we should wait for Ignotus before –"

A voice from the shadows cut him off. "I am here."

Antioch and Cadmus turned together, and Antioch's wand flared brightly, illuminating the dungeon. But there was no one visible.

And suddenly, without warning, Ignotus appeared, as though a cloak had slid from his body, and Cadmus suddenly realized his younger brother was holding a long length of fabric that now dazzled brilliantly in the light of Antioch's wand.

Antioch sucked in a quick breath. "You have completed your project as well, then. I should not be surprised, for you worked diligently on it."

"Yes, it is complete," Ignotus admitted quietly, stepping forward and looking down at the cloak he held in his hands. "Though as to its longevity, I cannot say."

"The Founders will be able to tell."

Cadmus reached out and touched the fabric, finding it cool and silken to the touch. For a brief moment, Ignotus seemed hesitant to allow his brothers to examine the cloak, but he did release it to their grasp.

"Mesmerizing," Cadmus murmured, sliding it along his arm so it caught the light again. He passed it to Antioch, who handed Ignotus his wand to take the cloak.

However, the moment he did, the light from the wand died and Ignotus gasped out loud.

"What is it?" Cadmus asked, alarmed.

" _This wand!_ It's –" Ignotus broke off, then said abruptly, " _Antioch!_ Take it back!"

Antioch's voice was curious. "What is wrong?"

"I… I don't know! There is something strange about it; it doesn't _like_ me!"

"It doesn't _like_ you?" Cadmus frowned. "Wands are not intelligent beings, Ignotus. They cannot _like_ or _dislike_ you."

"No! That isn't true!" Ignotus said. "The wand chooses the wizard, remember? That is what Ollivander told us when we received our first wands. And this wand has not chosen me, nor will it work for me! It _refuses_ to work for me. I can't make it light – I'm trying, but it refuses to cast a spell for me!"

Antioch said nothing, but took the wand from his youngest brother and passed the cloak back to him. Immediately, the wand lit again, casting long shadows across the dungeon.

"May I try?" Cadmus asked, curious to see if the wand would work for him.

Antioch said nothing, but passed him the wand. As soon as it touched Cadmus's fingers, the light disappeared, plunging the room into darkness, and a strange feeling raced up his arm. Suddenly, he realized that Ignotus had been right – though it was impossible to describe very well. The wand did indeed _dislike_ Cadmus; it seemed angry and resolute. He tried to cast _Illuminate_ , but nothing happened.

"How very odd," he breathed.

"It doesn't work for you, either?" Antioch sounded confused, now.

"No! It is just as Ignotus said! This wand does not _like_ me. It refuses to light." He passed the wand back, and when it was between Antioch's fingers again, it lit once more.

"That wand will only work for you," Ignotus faltered.

"I wonder if the cloak and the stone will be the same?" Antioch frowned. "Let Cadmus try the cloak on, Ignotus."

The cloak was passed back to Cadmus, who threw it about his shoulders. Antioch jerked, his eyes widening, and Cadmus looked down. He could no longer see his legs or feet or torso, but only the floor beneath him.

"The cloak works for others, then." Cadmus removed it and let it flow between his fingers. "But the wand does not. Strange."

"And what of your stone, the one to raise the dead?" Ignotus asked tersely, as Cadmus returned the cloak to him.

Cadmus reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black stone, which he held up in the light of Antioch's wand. "We shall test it now," he said, taking a deep breath.

His brothers were silent as he turned the stone over thrice in his fingers. The air seemed to spark, and they all gasped as, without warning, a figure appeared before them.

In Antioch's wand light, their father looked exactly as Cadmus remembered him – tall, with dark hair and beard, both streaked with gray. However, his robes were torn and bloody.

And Corvus Peverell watched them with dark eyes, his head turning from one son to the next, lingering upon each.

"Father…" Cadmus breathed, reaching out.

But Corvus said nothing, nor did he make any motion to touch Cadmus's hand. His face revealed no emotion. There was no trace of happiness at seeing his sons again. His eyes seemed utterly blank.

"Father?" Antioch asked, also reaching out.

But Corvus stepped back, out of his son's reach, and continued to survey them. His gaze fell upon Ignotus.

"Father, is it really you?" Ignotus whispered.

After a long moment, Corvus spoke, though his voice was distant and hollow. " _It is, and it is not._ "

"The stone works," Antioch breathed. "I hardly dare to believe it, but you have succeeded, Cadmus – "

Corvus turned to look at Antioch, but his expression did not change. He cut his eldest son off abruptly. " _Beware._ "

Antioch stiffened, and Cadmus frowned. "Beware of what, father?"

Corvus looked back at him, his voice still distant. " _Such power comes at a great price._ "

"What are you speaking of?" Cadmus demanded.

But Corvus did not elaborate. Instead, he looked at Ignotus. " _Beware._ "

Cadmus placed the stone upon a table and turned to walk towards his father, but as soon as the stone left his hands, their father vanished.

Antioch and Ignotus both sucked their breath in, and Cadmus felt his skin grow cold.

"Father?" he called out, his gaze shifting about the dungeon.

"It must only work if you continue to hold the stone," Antioch muttered.

Cadmus reached for the stone again, intent on calling his father back, but Ignotus spoke, his voice trembling slightly.

"No, wait. Do not call him again. He didn't seem as though he wanted to speak to us tonight. Wait until tomorrow, at the presentation ceremony."

Cadmus didn't want to listen to his brother; he wanted to recall Corvus and find out what the man meant about being cautious.

"What did he mean?" he murmured, looking down at the stone.

Antioch shrugged. "Perhaps he desires us to be cautious as we venture into the world."

Angry, Cadmus turned the stone over thrice in his fingers again. Without warning, Corvus reappeared, but his expression had changed – now, he looked angry.

"Tell us what you mean," Cadmus demanded. "Why should we beware?"

But Corvus was silent, and said nothing. They stood there for what seemed like eons, at a stalemate, before Antioch murmured, "We should go to bed. Let it be, Cadmus."

Cadmus turned to argue, but Ignotus had vanished and Antioch was already walking out the door. Cadmus looked back at his father, and was astonished to see tears in the man's eyes.

"I don't understand," Cadmus insisted.

" _Nor will you_ ," Corvus's voice echoed.

"I can try."

" _You are beyond trying. Leave me be, Cadmus._ "

His father turned away, and Cadmus felt his heart break. Resentfully and sadly, he replaced the stone in his pocket, and Corvus vanished again. He didn't understand what was wrong, or why Corvus wouldn't speak to them. Had he made a mistake in creating the stone? Reluctantly, Cadmus left the dungeon to return to Ravenclaw Tower.

**oOo**

The following morning, the entire school gathered in the Great Hall, separated by the Founder they were selected under. The students of Salazar Slytherin seemed sullen and distrusting, as they no longer had a present Founder. Instead, Antioch was at their head, presumably representing them as the oldest student in their midst.

Ignotus felt slightly mollified that Antioch was in charge; at least someone with a cool head was keeping them in check.

One by one, students were called forward to demonstrate the knowledge they had learned during their independent studies throughout the past term. The three remaining Founders presided over this process, though they seemed out of spirits and their smiles were forced. Rumors were that Godric, Rowena, and Helga were still angry with each other, as well as being angry at Salazar. Wilder rumors suggested the school would close in the end of the term. Four Founders had created the school…could only three continue it? Would Salazar attack the school? Would another teacher be found to represent Salazar's students? Would the "house of Slytherin" receive a new name? Would the Founders eradicate Salazar's surname from the school completely, or would they allow the name of Slytherin to continue to be associated with the school?

But Godric, Rowena, and Helga did not discuss such matters with their students, and certainly not during the presentations of projects.

Ignotus watched quietly as other students went forward and presented their research or project to the Founders. Younger students had very simple projects, but the older ones had been doing extremely difficult work. Cearo, for instance, though heavily pregnant, had been brewing complicated potions involving ashwinder eggs. Salazar would normally have judged such a project, but in his absences, Mistress Rowena reviewed Cearo's work and proclaimed it to be incredibly advanced and difficult, but well done. Beaming, Cearo returned to her seat gratefully, sinking down and rubbing her swollen stomach.

Callisto was not required to present her work on healing spells, as she had already demonstrated her abilities at healing when she had saved Ignotus's life in the winter. But Cantrella presented an antidote to a rare poison that made Ignotus's head ache at the very complexity of trying to identify such.

Of the Peverell brothers, Cadmus went first. He seemed to impress the Founders greatly when he presented his stone, but Ignotus noticed they had dark expressions when they actually held it. Godric in particular seemed eager to pass it along to Rowena, who frowned at it for a long time before she murmured, "There is much uncharted magic with this project. What spells did you use, Cadmus?"

"I created many on my own, Mistress. After heavily researching reverse spell effects."

Ignotus noticed Rowena and Godric's eyes narrow at this; they knew perfectly well that Cadmus had dabbled in the Dark Arts to finish his project, but they did not mention it.

"Very well," Rowena replied. "Who wishes to test this stone?"

Cadmus twitched, and Ignotus wondered if he wanted to bring their father into the Great Hall. But it was Godric who held his hand out, and Rowena passed the stone to him instead of Cadmus.

"How does it work?" Godric asked, his voice ringing out over the hall.

Cadmus replied sullenly, "You must twist it thrice between your fingers, thinking of the person you wish to call from the dead."

Godric twisted the stone three times in his fingers, and without warning, a woman appeared in the hall next to Cadmus. She had long auburn hair, which was braided but coming out of its design, and blood covered her robes. Several students screamed. Next to Ignotus, Callisto clapped a hand over her mouth and shrank back; Cantrella grabbed her and wrapped her arms about her tightly.

"Do not speak," Cantrella whispered harshly to Callisto. "Say nothing! I don't believe it – it isn't real!"

"It _is_ real," Ignotus argued quietly, glancing at Callisto, who looked ashen and close to panic. "Cadmus brought our father back last night. But it was strange. Father seemed…"

His words were cut off; Godric rose, his face pale, his gaze fixed upon the bloody woman.

" _You are wondering_ ," she said, in a hollow voice, " _if I am real, Godric._ "

Next to Ignotus, Callisto went white with shock. Cantrella was fighting to keep her friend from rising, and Ignotus grabbed Callisto's free hand to make his lover look at him. But she wouldn't. Her hand remained over her mouth; it seemed she was desperately trying not to scream.

The woman went on, her voice still far away, like Corvus's voice had been. " _I am real, and yet I am not._ "

Godric's brow furrowed. He, too, was pale, though not panicked like Callisto. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You stand before me, and you look like yourself, and you speak as I remember. If you are not yourself, then who, or what are you?"

" _I am myself, just as you remember me, Godric. But I am not alive. No spell can return the dead to the world of the living. The Laws of Death are absolute._ " The woman turned to Cadmus, who had stepped back from her, his eyes narrowed and distrusting. She smiled sadly and said, " _You sought to cheat Death by researching Elwyn's work, in hopes of retrieving your father…but Death cannot be cheated by such means. The stone you created is a masterpiece – make no mistake. It is a brilliant object, unparalleled, but it has one single flaw. It cannot make a dead person alive again. It can only bring back an echo, like a ghost._ "

Cadmus looked livid; blood infused his face and he opened his mouth to speak, but Godric cut him off.

"You will _not_ yell at the dead, Cadmus." Godric's voice was weary. "It does no good. She is telling you the truth, for she died ten years ago. I know her well, and have every reason to trust her."

Callisto finally succeeded in rising, breaking free of Cantrella's hold. At the scuffle of her stepping away from Cantrella and Ignotus, the woman in bloody robes turned and smiled. Ignotus saw her face clearly now – stained with blood and cuts and gashes that didn't actually bleed. Her eyes were hollow, like Corvus's had been. She had indeed spoken the truth: Cadmus had achieved much, but he had not succeeded in his original goal.

The woman did not speak to Callisto. Instead, after a long moment, she turned back to Godric and said gently, " _Allow me to return, Godric. I have no place here. The dead cannot live in this world._ "

Godric opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, and nodded sadly. He placed the stone upon the table before him, and the woman vanished.

The Great Hall was silent. After a long moment, Rowena picked up the stone and murmured, "It is great magic, Cadmus. You have fallen short of your goal, but it is not for lack of trying. It is for lack of believing in the absolute laws of the universe." She held the stone out, and Cadmus reluctantly took it from her. He looked furious.

Helga's smile was also bittersweet as she added, "That is not to say you have failed your presentation, Cadmus. But I would caution you to avoid researching Elwyn the Fierce in the future. It is a dangerous pastime. Thank you for sharing your project with us."

It was a veiled ordered that he should return to his seat, and Ignotus watched as Cadmus returned to the Ravenclaw table, his fists clenched tightly. Callisto slowly sat back down, her face still pale and clammy.

Godric cleared his throat. "I think perhaps we should invite Antioch to share his project, next. Mr. Ollivander?"

To Ignotus's surprise, Deogal Ollivander rose from a side table, where he had been waiting unobtrusively. Antioch met him in the middle of the hall and bowed politely.

Godric announced, "Deogal Ollivander will test your wand, Antioch. As he is most familiar with wandlore, and has been assisting you with your endeavor, it is most fitting that he should review your project."

Deogal held out his hands, and Antioch placed the wand he had created upon Deogal's palms. Immediately, Deogal's expression changed. His eyes widened and he stared at the wand in horror, and Ignotus wondered if it would work for Deogal – the most powerful wand creator in the entire world.

The hall was absolutely silent, and so Deogal's soft words were audible despite his quietness. "This wand… is very strange."

"Strange?" Godric asked sharply.

"It is most powerful. The power exudes from it. I feel it against my skin. _Sheer power_. What is the core?" His eyes narrowed upon Antioch.

"The hair from a Thestral's tail."

There was an audible gasp in the hall, and Deogal frowned. "An unusual choice… I have never used such before, myself. A creature that can only be seen if one witnesses and accepts death… A powerful and extremely intelligent creature, as well." He paused, looking back at the wand. "The wood is Elder. Where was it taken?"

"From the Peverell necropolis."

"The tail hair of a creature which one can only see if one witnesses and accepts death, and a wood of power taken from a necropolis…" Deogal frowned more deeply, and glanced at Antioch's hands. "What has happened to your hands?"

Antioch said tonelessly, "The wood was difficult to cut."

Rowena interrupted. "And you did not heal your wounds? Do you wish to wear them proudly?" She sounded disdainful, and Ignotus couldn't blame her. It baffled him that the wand had wounded Antioch for carving it, and that the wounds were unable to be healed by magic.

Antioch bowed his head towards her politely. "They refuse to heal for me, Mistress Rowena. I have tried. But, it is of no matter. They do not hurt badly, and are healing slowly on their own." He turned back to Deogal. "Well? What is your final pronouncement, sir?"

Deogal took a long, slow breath, and surveyed Antioch critically. "This wand will not allow me to test it. I can tell, of course, that it is well made and extremely powerful – possibly the most powerful wand I have ever touched. But it will only work for you."

Ignotus heard Cantrella mutter, "How strange. A wand that will not work for Mr. Ollivander?"

"That is also true, though," he whispered to her. "I held it last night, and it refused to cooperate for me or Cadmus."

Rowena's voice rang across the hall, clearly and coolly. "You, too, have succeeded in great magic, Antioch. But if the wand will only work for you, then I must declare that you, too, have fallen short of completing your challenge."

"No." Deogal straightened, handed the wand back to Antioch, and faced Rowena. "He has not failed. The wand chooses the wizard, after all. That wand will bend only to power. It is rigid and unyielding. For now, it has chosen Antioch as its wizard, and it will work for him. It may very well choose another person later, and work just as well. But the wand will decide for whom it shall work – a wizard or witch cannot make it do that which it does not wish to do."

Rowena frowned. "You speak of it as a living being."

"And so it is," Deogal replied, his voice curt. "Trees are living things, are they not? And so our wands are imbibed with living attributes. I cannot explain further, for wand creation is a secret art. Antioch himself made an Unbreakable Vow to obtain the knowledge I possess of wandlore. I cannot divulge it to you, or anyone else, without such a vow in exchange."

"Very well. Then I shall accept your proclamation that he has succeeded."

Godric and Helga murmured assent, and Antioch returned to his seat, his expression smug.

Godric rose again. "As we have seen projects from two of our pureblood brothers, we should finish with the third. Ignotus, come forward."

Ignotus rose, and nervously walked to the front of the Great Hall.

"You have woven an invisibility cloak from the hair of a Demiguise, a mystical creature from a distant land," Godric announced. "Let us see for ourselves if your cloak works."

Ignotus let the fabric flow through his fingers; the shimmering threads caught the light. He heard students gasp and sigh behind him as the cloak sparkled. Taking a deep breath, he threw it over himself.

As with Cadmus's project, Ignotus's caused several students to scream at his disappearance. Through the cloak, he could see Godric, Rowena, and Helga staring at the space he was still standing upon, though now invisible.

"Remarkable," Rowena breathed. "Let us examine it more closely."

Ignotus removed the cloak and several students gasped at his reappearance. Most of them had never heard of a Demiguise, and likely had no idea how he had created such an object. He passed it to Rowena, who ran her fingers through the silky cloth.

" _Beautiful_ … And well made. You learned to weave solely for this project, as I understand it?"

"I did, Mistress," Ignotus replied nervously.

She passed the cloak to Godric, who held it up and let it ripple out to its full length. "It is a thing of beauty and amazing magic. How long do you suspect the spells will last, Rowena?"

"I cannot say. Eventually, even the most well cast invisibility spells will fade, and the cloak will lose its power. But it should last at least five generations. Possibly more."

Godric passed the cloak to Helga, who held it silently for a few moments, her face puzzled. Then, unexpectedly, she said, "This cloak possesses a power different from the objects his brothers created."

Rowena's expression was cool. "A different power, Helga?"

Helga closed her eyes and let the cloth slide over her hands. "It is as though the cloak has cried, and found strength. It is very powerful, but does not desire to use the power…"

"Such sounds remarkably like Divination, and Divination is a shaky art," Rowena said skeptically, as she crossed her arms.

"I find it to be accurate," Helga countered delicately – though her expression indicated she utterly disagreed with Rowena. "This cloak is different. I believe it will last far longer than just a few generations. It has strength."

Rowena opened her mouth to argue, but Godric interrupted, though his voice was polite.

He asked, "Are we in agreement that Ignotus has succeeded in his challenge?"

The two women scowled at him, but both nodded, and Helga passed the cloak back to Ignotus, who returned to his seat.

He did not hear much of the remaining students' projects; it had taken nearly all day, and everyone was tired of sitting by the time the presentations were finished. As the students left the hall, Callisto said thoughtfully, "Mistress Helga is right. Do you remember the round table discussion a few months ago? The cloak contains the power of Love, because you finished it in memory of Ross. The stone and the wand don't possess any Love whatsoever. Antioch made the wand from Death and Power, and so it is resentful and demanding. And Cadmus made the stone to avenge Death. That was what my mother hinted at when Godric summoned her, anyways."

Ignotus stopped and stared at her. "What?"

"The woman that Master Godric summoned," Cantrella said shortly, "was Callisto's mother."

"Then why didn't you go speak to her?" Ignotus asked. And, turning abruptly to Cantrella, he demanded, "Why did you stop her?"

Cantrella's eyebrows lifted in irritation. "It was a shadow, Ignotus. She wasn't alive."

"I am not angry," Callisto said quickly, reassuring him before he could argue with Cantrella. "I miss my parents terribly. But I knew, even when he summoned her, that she was not alive. I wished, briefly, that she _were_ alive again. And I feel for Cadmus. He does not wish to accept your father's death. I accepted my parents' death years ago. But that was why Cadmus made the stone. I pity him, and I hope he acknowledges the truth soon. Your father cannot return, no matter what spells Cadmus used."

Ignotus paused, mulling her words over. She was right, as she so often was. He turned, halfway up the marble staircase, to see Cadmus storming past students who were clamoring to get his attention, some of them begging him to bring back this dead relative or that one, so they could speak to their loved ones again. And Ignotus felt a sharp pang of sadness. If the stone didn't actually bring the dead back to life…if it merely brought the dead back in shadowy form…then perhaps that was exactly what Corvus had been so angry about the night before. And Cadmus, in his anger, would never understand. Of this, Ignotus was certain.


	14. Chapter 14

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## The Wand Defeated

****

The break between terms came quickly after the challenges were presented. Before Ignotus knew it, the final two weeks had flown by and it was time to return home for the summer. The secret room beside Godric's chambers was closed as Ignotus had no use of it anymore, and Callisto's loom was shrunk down and packed away. The residents of Gyffindor's Tower were subdued as they packed their things and prepared to Apparate home, or else wait for their parents or a guardian to take them home. They had lost one of their own that year, Salazar had left the school, and the three remaining Founders did not seem to be on good terms. It was unclear if students would be allowed to return in the autumn, and no one knew what would happen next.

As for Ignotus, he was slated to leave alongside Antioch and Cadmus, but he wished to speak to Callisto before he left. He had to find a way to see her over the summer, and the night before he was scheduled to leave, he pulled her out of the Tower with the use of his cloak. It barely covered both of them, but they made it to an empty classroom undetected.

Once inside, Ignotus did not take the cloak off. They were pressed together, and he shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around her. She did the same, and the stood together for a long time, silent. She was warm against him, and comfortable, and he wasn't sure he could say goodbye.

Finally, he whispered hoarsely, "How can I contact you over the summer?"

"A Patronus would be the best way. Owls can be intercepted."

He nodded against her hair. "I don't know how long I must stay at Peverell Fortress. Antioch plans to return to the Clan Wars to assist the Findlay Clan and avenge father. Nothing I say will change his mind. Cadmus and Cearo have been planning to start their life elsewhere. But I'll need to stay with mother a while. She needs me."

"I understand. Send me a Patronus when you are ready."

He chuckled weakly. "I shall be ready the day after we return home."

"Have you decided?"

He could hear the hesitation in her voice, and he knew what she meant. She wanted to know if he had decided to join the Blood War, by joining Godric's side. Ignotus shifted awkwardly. "I want to join. I know how important it is. Ross would want me to join. But I have to find some way to tell my mother. She… she won't agree. Father's death devastated her and now Antioch is off to fight again, too. I don't think she would allow me to join the clan wars, and I only just turned of age. I have to consider her feelings on the matter."

"I do understand. I know you don't think so, because I desperately want you to join, but I also know how important family ties are."

"I hope I can convince her. I will do my best. It may be that I just have to leave." He felt slightly guilty even saying it.

"Don't estrange yourself from your family, Ignotus," Callisto whispered.

He laughed hollowly. "I will estrange myself from them regardless of whether I want to or not. Even if mother forgives me for my decision to join the war, Antioch and Cadmus certainly won't. I knew the day Ross died that I would have to choose between the war and my family. I don't like it," he admitted, "but it can't be helped. Ross was my friend. If I do nothing, his death would be in vain. And Cantrella is fighting against her family's wishes. I won't be much different."

"Yes, but her family isn't fully aware of that yet."

"And I do understand why. But I have no reason to hide it from my family, as she does. I would hope Cadmus and Antioch wouldn't try to kill me over such a decision."

"What does Cadmus plan to do?" she asked, shifting slightly against him.

"He and Cearo are going to make a home for themselves beyond Peverell Fortress. Mother was furious with him when she found out about Cearo's condition. Cadmus thinks it will be better if he remains away from mother for a while, until she becomes more agreeable towards the situation."

"Isn't your mother happy to have a grandchild on the way?"

"She is angry with Cadmus for how he handled everything. He became so absorbed with creating the stone that more than once, he's nearly forgotten Cearo exists."

"Well, perhaps now he will focus more on her and the baby instead of the stone."

Ignotus was about to reply when she kissed him – a slow, teasing kiss that obliterated all thought from his head. Her arms snaked around his body, her palms sliding up his torso and shoulders, and he quickly forgot about their discussion and kissed her back.

**oOo**

The next morning, Ignotus tore himself away from Callisto and Cantrella to say goodbye to Godric. Godric clasped his hand firmly, but his face was grave. Ignotus found he wasn't certain what to say, and in any case, Callisto would notify Godric of their discussion the night before. Nodding respectfully, Ignotus followed his brothers and Cearo out of the castle and down the steps. Within a few minutes, they had reached the barrier of Hogwarts, and they were able to Apparate.

Antioch and Ignotus faced Cadmus and Cearo, and Antioch said, "Be careful when you Apparate, Cadmus. Her condition is serious and you'll need to focus carefully to make certain she doesn't splinch herself."

"I know how to Apparate," Cadmus said coolly, glaring at his brother.

"We will be fine," Cearo reassured them. "Please come and visit us. We will send you both the location by owl."

Antioch inclined his head, and in the blink of an eye, Cadmus and Cearo vanished.

Ignotus sighed and looked at his older brother; Antioch nodded, and they twisted together. When the compression stopped, Ignotus was facing Peverell Fortress, and they began trudging up the path to the castle.

"When do you leave?" Ignotus asked dully.

"Tomorrow morning."

"So soon?"

"Findley has been doing poorly in our absence."

"I didn't think they could do much worse." Ignotus's voice was sarcastic, but he didn't bother to hold it in check.

"Father would want me to return and help them, though." Antioch's tone was also slightly bitter. "But I am inclined to agree with you. Hopefully, I can assist them and return quickly. Once I defeat Athol, I will have no other personal reason to stay."

Quite abruptly, Antioch stopped on the path, and Ignotus nearly ran into him. Glancing around, Antioch made certain they were alone before he said quietly, "Once Athol is defeated, I intend to sever all ties with Findley, Ignotus. Do you understand?"

Ignotus sucked his breath in and glanced around as well, nervous that they might be overheard. It was slightly treasonous to be discussing the severing of ties with a blood ally, no matter how distant. But the landscape was barren, except for the castle. Slowly, he said, "That would cause grave repercussions. Are you certain you want to go that far?"

"Yes." Antioch paused, and his tone softened. "I won't have you fight in the Clan Wars. They don't even directly involve the House of Peverell, and there is no reason for us to give any more of our blood for their cause."

"What if someone attacked us, and we needed help from the Findlay Clan?"

"Findlay is a slippery sort of man. He would find some way to worm out of such an alliance. It is best if we cut our association before they demand you join the wars, too. There are others that can assist us. We have some connections to the House of Abbott and MacMillan, if absolutely necessary."

Ignotus said quietly, "I am not afraid to fight, Antioch."

"I know you are not afraid to fight. That is not the issue at hand, Ignotus. I don't want you to have to bear the weight of what it means to fight in a war, of any kind."

Antioch's admonishment was gentle, but firm. And Ignotus knew exactly what he was getting at. Evading the question, he said wearily, "Let us go on to the castle. Mother will be worried for us."

Antioch frowned at him, but did not press the point, and they continued their trek to Peverell Fortress.

**oOo**

As Ignotus expected, Quilla Peverell was most displeased to learn that Antioch was leaving the next morning to join the Findlay Clan against MacBain. After dinner, she protested and argued with her eldest son to no avail, but Antioch would not be persuaded otherwise. After he left the sitting room to turn in for bed, she rounded on Ignotus.

"And you?" she demanded. "Are you to join Antioch and give your blood for this?"

Ignotus had never seen her eyes look so hard, and yet so exhausted. He shook his head. "No, mother. I have no plans to join Antioch."

She looked at him closely, as though trying to read his thoughts, before she said sadly, "I detest this ridiculous tie to Findlay. I have been trying to think of some way to break it, since two summers ago. I've gone through all of the parchments on the matter, but I cannot find any legal grounds to do so, other than the fact that the connection to Findlay is based on an old blood tie, several generations removed. Corvus insisted on keeping the tie, but it was because he was a man of his word, and he considered it tantamount to treason to retract a promise. I disagreed with him on the matter, but he would not listen to me."

She rose from her chair and moved to the fireside, gazing into the flames. Ignotus watched her, transfixed. After a moment, she continued, "You are much like Corvus in that you dislike breaking your word, Ignotus. I don't want to see you tangled in a web of deceit and problems that Findlay would cause. I don't even want Antioch to return. I don't see why he should."

"He is angry at what happened. He feels he has unfinished business on the matter." Ignotus shifted uneasily. He didn't want to tell her about Antioch's new wand; that was between Antioch and Quilla, should Antioch even want to tell her.

She closed her eyes, as though in pain. "I keep having nightmares. None of them make the first bit of sense. I dread Antioch leaving, as much as I dread you getting mixed up in the Clan Wars. All I dream of is blood, everywhere, every night. It frightens me."

"I can assure you, mother," Ignotus murmured, "that I have no desire to get mixed up in the Clan Wars."

But deep within his chest, he felt nervous. She was dreaming of blood? Every night? Convincing her to allow him to join Godric was going to be nearly impossible, and he already missed Callisto terribly. How was he ever going to manage to join the Blood War?

**oOo**

Antioch left early the next morning, not wasting time on long goodbyes. He took a Portkey to the main Findlay base. Upon his arrival, Tearlach greeted him cordially, but Antioch did not return the sentiment. A year away from this battlefront had hardened him; he now saw Tearlach for a weak man who sent Corvus in his stead to fight Athol.

He was taken directly to the council room, where the rest of the Clan and the heads of its allies were gathered, discussing potential moves. They had lost even more ground since the last summer, though Antioch could hardly believe such was possible. He listened to their discussion impassively, absorbing the information on where they planned to attack next, what the MacBain Clan was plotting, and how Athol was still leading the MacBain fighters. That was what Antioch was solely concerned with – Athol's whereabouts.

As the Council came to a close for the evening, Tearlach stopped Antioch and said unctuously, "We are thankful you have returned to us. We were afraid you would break the blood tie that your father held so closely."

There was a gleam in Tearlach's eye that infuriated Antioch – the man was threatening him, though in a veiled manner. He was hinting that the Peverell family would have to remain tied to Findlay, even though the blood tie in question was so distant. Antioch said nothing, but turned to leave. Findlay put a heavy hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Where is your brother? When will he join us? We are short on fighters."

Stiffly, Antioch replied, "Cadmus has other duties to attend to that are more pressing."

"I did not mean Cadmus – he is a poor fighter in any case." Tearlach laughed, though without humor. "And I suppose I forgot… your youngest brother is still in school, isn't he? I was hoping he would leave Hogwarts and join us. There is more honor in being a warrior than a scholar, you know."

A chill shivered down Antioch's spine, and he stopped. Tearlach passed by him, and turned and smiled. But it was a smile that held no warmth, and Antioch felt a wave of fury. He kept it in check, said nothing, and watched as Tearlach moved on down the hall and out of sight.

**oOo**

It had been but two weeks since the end of the school term, and Cadmus had not bothered to use the stone in any of the time that had passed. Cearo's condition had gradually worsened – she was due any day, and even with the use of two house elves that Quilla had graciously loaned to them, Cadmus found he was still having to do a great deal of work that he wasn't accustomed to doing…or that he even wanted to do. It angered him, and yet he could do nothing about it. As his mother liked to remind him in occasional letter, this was partially his fault.

He charmed the dishes to wash themselves and glanced about the cottage that he and Cearo had made their home. _Her_ father, though still utterly furious with both of them, had reluctantly given it to her, though she was still ultimately banned from her family castle. It may have been a roof over their heads, but as far as Cadmus was concerned, it was nothing more than a disgusting hovel. The house elves clucked their tongues at him and had commented that it was a _clean_ cottage, and built of stone – much nicer than a thatch cottage as what some people lived in. In his anger, Cadmus had forbidden them to speak of his current surroundings in any positive terms.

One day, he thought bitterly, he would have a castle of his own, and he and Cearo would live in comfort instead of cramped rooms with a thatched roof. He was better than this! He was a Peverell, and she a Raewald!

One of the house elves appeared at his side, and Cadmus scowled at the creature, which bowed low to the floor.

"If Master so pleases, Mistress has gone into pains," the elf squeaked.

Cadmus glanced towards the door that led to the bedroom, and sighed in exasperation. So it was finally time. Thank goodness – he was ready for this to be over and done. Then perhaps he could go about his business, and leave Cearo and the baby to themselves. She would be happier and less demanding once she had the baby.

"Notify me once it has arrived," he told the elf.

As soon as the creature disappeared back through the bedroom door, Cadmus retreated outside and sent an owl to his mother, to alert her of the news.

**oOo**

The misty cliffs overlooking the North Sea were as desolate and eerie as Antioch remembered. The Findlay warriors moved slowly, wands drawn as they advanced along the dangerously high coastline. Tearlach had no idea that the letter he received from the MacBain clan for a pitched battle was Antioch's doing – Antioch had sent an anonymous letter to Athol, derisively calling him a coward who used underhanded means to attack his opponents, whose boasting would one day be his downfall. The result was immediate; within a day, MacBain sent a letter to Findlay, demanding a battle. MacBain had reason to gloat – his warriors had defeated Findlay's on multiple occasions in the past year, and today would likely be no exception. But Antioch could care less about that.

In the distance, he could see warriors approaching them, and he smiled. Today would be the day he defeated Athol. The wand within his right hand quivered, as though aching to do what it had been created for.

**oOo**

The letters came on the same day, at the same time. Ignotus and Quilla were eating breakfast in one of the parlors, when the two owls arrived.

One was from Cadmus – dispassionate and almost unfeeling, announcing the birth of his son, whom he had named Cerberus. Ignotus thought it was a bad name…a name of ill omen. Quilla seemed to feel the same, for she clucked her tongue when Ignotus read it aloud.

" _Cerberus?_ " She frowned. "What a _dreadful_ name! It must have been the girl's idea."

"Well, perhaps Cadmus will be kinder –" Ignotus began, but his mother cut him off.

"Your brother will be kind to no one, least of all that girl or the baby." Quilla rose and paced to the tall, mullioned windows. "Read the second letter."

"It is from Antioch," Ignotus murmured, and he ripped the seal apart and quickly scanned the letter. "He has defeated Athol MacBain in battle."

A strange feeling trickled through Ignotus as the implication struck him full force. Antioch had defeated Athol because of his new wand – which Quilla didn't know about. The wand was clearly powerful, then.

Quilla turned from the window. "The man who killed Corvus?" she whispered.

"Yes."

She sank into a chair by the window. "How did he do it?"

Ignotus scanned the letter. "His wand performed some unusual magic, which Antioch was unaware of. It appears it was based on the Avada Kedavra spell, but more powerful. It destroyed Athol instantly. Findlay gained back two strongholds."

She was silent for a long time. Ignotus wondered if she was going to say anything else, and he had just decided to return to his chambers when she said softly, "Perhaps he will come home, now. There is no reason left for him to stay."

Ignotus hoped she was right. Given that Antioch wanted to sever the ties to Findlay, it seemed a distinct possibility.

**oOo**

But things rarely happened the way expected. Two days later, Ignotus and Quilla received another letter, this one from Tearlach Findlay himself.

After Athol's defeat, Antioch had indeed broken the tie to the Findlay Clan, which Tearlach raved was treason. And Antioch had received his desserts for cutting the Peverell family from the Findlay Clan. After leaving the Clan, Tearlach had sent two wizard warriors to follow him. They discovered Antioch in a nearby village, having a pint of ale in an establishment. Antioch made some comment about his wand, Tearlach claimed. That his wand was stronger than all others, and Antioch's own blood and sweat had gone into its creation, and that nothing could defeat it. It had defeated Athol, and would defeat any other wizard who dared to face Antioch.

That night, Tearlach explained, before the Findlay Wizards could reach Antioch and demand his return to the Findlay Clan, an unknown assassin entered Antioch's chambers and killed him. The mysterious wand had disappeared by the time the Findlay wizards reached the chamber, and they discovered only Antioch's body. Tearlach coldly stated that he merely felt it his duty to Corvus to report Antioch's death to Quilla, though he showed little concern for the man who betrayed the Findlay Clan in the end, and added that Corvus would have been most disappointed in Antioch's appalling behavior.

The letter had a terrible effect on Quilla, who crumpled to the floor when she finished reading it.

Ignotus yelled and ran to her, then cried out for some of the house elves to assist him. Several appeared immediately. They laid their prone mistress on her back and felt her forehead; she was clammy and had fainted, they said seriously, and they would need to get her to her chambers immediately. Ignotus watched, feeling helpless, as the house elves transported Quilla to her bedchamber, before he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

Was it some sort of cruel jest on Tearlach's part, or had Antioch really been killed? Ignotus wished he could believe his brother would not be so foolhardy as to boast about the wand's extraordinary power in front of others, but he knew Antioch was confident. Antioch wouldn't see his words as boasting. He would have believed that he was merely telling a fact, as though he were answering a question in Potions class or Charms. And who had killed Antioch? Was it truly the work of an unknown assassin, or had the Findlay Clan actually killed Antioch? Was Tearlach's letter just a cover for a serious crime? Ignotus didn't know, and he couldn't think straight. Tears blinded him, and after a few minutes, he realized someone was touching his shoulder.

When he looked up, his vision blurry, he discovered Mippy watching him. Her wrinkled skin hung off limp and her eyes were wide and sad.

"The elves has just learned what has happened to Master Antioch," she said. "Mippy is so very sorry for Master Ignotus. Does Master need anything?"

Ignotus sat up and scrubbed the tears away from his face. Quietly, he said, "If you don't mind, I should like to visit mother as soon as she is able."

The elf nodded. "Mippy will come for Master as soon as Mistress is able to see him."

She vanished, leaving him alone. Ignotus pulled himself into a chair and closed his eyes tightly, trying to master his emotions, when the door flew open and Bull, the Peverell Steward, came rushing in.

"Did the elves just tell me correctly?" he demanded, dashing around the chair to face Ignotus.

Ignotus hugged his arms around himself, trying to gather strength. "Yes. Please see to my mother, sir. Mippy will come for me as soon as mother is able to see me. She may need a potion for a Dreamless Sleep."

The Steward looked pale and petrified, but he nodded, bowed, and hurried from the room.

It was a long time before Mippy returned – the fire had burned out and the sun had already dipped below the horizon. He jumped when she reappeared, and immediately dropped to the floor to be eye level with her.

"Come with Mippy, Master Ignotus," she said in a low squeaky voice. "Mistress will see you now." She held out her hand, and Ignotus grasped it. Seconds later, he was outside of his mother's chambers.

Quilla was lying down in bed when Ignotus walked into the room. Bull stepped outside to give them privacy, and Ignotus went up to her bedside.

"Have you told your brother what happened?" she whispered.

"No." Ignotus felt a bit sick at the thought of Cadmus, who had no idea that Antioch was dead. He would have to go visit his brother.

As though his mother had read his thoughts, she added softly, "And you will need to retrieve Antioch's body, if possible. It is not a task I would have ever wanted you to do, but it must be done. And I fear I am not up to the task. Please forgive me, Ignotus."

"I can get it," Ignotus said, more bravely than he felt. He truly wasn't certain if he _could_ get Antioch's body, or if he would vomit in the process.

"You are a good son." Quilla smiled at him, and she seemed entirely unlike herself. "Be kind to Cadmus. The two of you have no one else, now."

"We have you, mother." Ignotus felt his fingertips grow cold.

She said nothing, but looked away. "I'm so tired. I have a potion for a Dreamless Sleep. I want to sleep. I want to forget. I have lost my eldest son and my husband." Tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "I am so sorry, Ignotus. I need to sleep."

He nodded. "Very well."

Mippy appeared at his side to lead him away again, and he told Bull to make certain his mother slept well that night. The Steward promised he would administer the potion as Quilla demanded, and Ignotus left them. He would write Cadmus in the morning.

**oOo**

But morning brought another shock – one Ignotus was not remotely prepared for. The house elves appeared in his room, frantic and wailing, pulling at their neat tunics that bore the Peverell coat of arms, and woke him from a light and restless sleep.

At first he couldn't make out a word of what they were saying, and was perforce to order them to be silent, though he hated to do it.

The moment the order left his lips, the elves gulped back their wails and cries and hysterics, but tears continued to pour from their eyes. Ignotus ordered Mippy forward and demanded to know what on earth was going on.

Mippy stumbled forward fearfully, old and hobbling, and whispered, "Mistress Quilla has…gone."

"Gone?" Ignotus felt blank and stupid and confused. "Where has she gone? I told her yesterday I would bring Antioch's body home and inform Cadmus of the news."

"No." Mippy shook her head, her ears flapping. "Not what Mippy meant, sir. Mippy meant… Mistress Quilla… is… dead…"

For a moment, his world spun. If it weren't for the gravity of the house elves, all looking distraught and sobbing silently, he wouldn't have believed her. In fact, part of him did not want to believe her, not at all.

Frantic, he threw back the quilts and yanked his boots on, threw a blanket around his shoulders, and bolted from the room. He thundered down the corridors and skidded down a flight of narrow stairs, finally reaching his parents' room. He muttered _Alohamora_ before he reached the door and it sprang open for him. Just as he reached the threshold, he saw Bull rushing up from the other end of the corridor, but Ignotus paid him no heed and burst into the room.

His mother was lying on the bed, the quilts drawn up, and there were several bottles on the table beside her bed. Ignotus thrust his fingers against her neck, feeling for a pulse, but her skin was ice cold and he felt nothing. He muttered _Enervate_ , and nothing happened; he did it again, more angrily and frantically, and still nothing happened.

Bull was beside him then, and all of the house elves hurried into the room, watching fearfully. Bull rummaged through the bottles on the table, and said, "I did not bring her these, Master Ignotus. I only brought her this one!" He pushed the Potion for a Dreamless Sleep into Ignotus's hands, and Ignotus stared at it.

"Then what are the others?" he asked, his lips numb.

"I do not know, sir. They must have been in her private stores – I'm not familiar with the bottles."

Ignotus turned to the house elves. "Tell me the truth! Do any of you know where these bottles came from, or what they are?"

The house elves flinched at his words, but one shuffled forward – Bobsy, a younger elf with large blue eyes.

"They's is Mistress's private potions, sir. Mistress never told us what they were used for. We was not allowed in Mistress's potion room, sir."

Ignotus snatched up a bottle that was half empty – the others seemed to be pushed aside. He wretched the stopper off and stared into the bottle. A black liquid, shining and oily, sparkled up at him.

Bull sucked in his breath. "Heavens above. Draught of Living Death."

"Half the bottle is gone," Ignotus choked out.

"She knew how much to take. One drop would put her in a sleep for a year; half the bottle would have killed her."

Ignotus sank onto the mattress, clutching the bottle in his hands. "She said," he whispered, "that she wanted to sleep. Oh, God. How did I miss it? Why did I not stay with her?"

Bull closed his eyes. "Master Corvus, Master Antioch, and now Mistress Quilla… God help us all. You will have to bring Master Cadmus and his bride home, Master Ignotus. We need him here."

Ignotus felt as though his insides would rip apart and tear him to pieces, as though agony were bubbling up inside him and he had no way to control it or stop it. Reluctantly, he nodded, and whispered in a broken voice, "I will go visit him this morning."

"Someone will need to go with you. A black shadow follows the Peverell family," Bull insisted.

"Shadow indeed! _I'm_ still alive, damn it!" Ignotus was on his feet in a moment, fury rising in him like a tide. "And I can defend myself against enemies! Antioch boasted of that infernal wand he made – that is why he is dead! And mother killed herself out of grief! I will not do the same, make note of it!"

Without waiting for a response, he threw the half empty bottle of the Draught of Living Death across the room with all his might. It shattered against the tapestry hanging from the wall, and wherever the liquid touched, the woven fabric burned away in gaping, singed holes. But Ignotus did not stay to watch the potion's brutal effect; he stormed out of the room in his grief, returned to his own chambers, and sobbed for an hour before he was able to regain control of himself.

He finally rose to his feet and finished dressing, but as he started out the door, his eyes caught sight of something sparkling – the Cloak of Invisibility.

Ignotus paused at the door. Bull Corey's words haunted him.

_A black shadow follows the Peverell family._

He lifted the cloak from the chair it was draped across, and allowed the fabric to flow over his fingers, cool as water. He shivered.

_Just in case_ , he thought, and he tossed it over his shoulders, suddenly afraid that perhaps Death was seeking members of his family for destruction – because the brothers had boasted of defeating Death at Yule, and now, Antioch and Quilla were dead.

He left the castle, hidden from sight, without speaking to anyone. Once beyond the protection spells that surrounded the castle, Ignotus took a deep, shuddering breath, and Apparated.


	15. Chapter 15

****

## The Stone Defeated

****

When the suffocating experience of Apparition disappeared, Ignotus found he was standing in a forest grove. Morning sunlight filtered through the trees to the thick grass beneath his boots, and wildflowers dotted the tiny, shady meadow. It would have been an idyllic spot, if he were not so distraught.

Swallowing thickly to avoid tears, Ignotus looked around from beneath the protection of the cloak. A path lay in front of him, and he immediately set out upon it. It twisted and turned through leafy, shady trees and firs, until at last it opened up onto another meadow, where a stone cottage sat neatly situated.

Ignotus paused only a brief moment to glance at the meadow and the forest on the far side, before he went to the door and knocked.

After a few moments, it opened, and a Cadmus stood before him, his wand slightly raised as he looked through Ignotus and all around.

"It is only I," Ignotus said quietly, slipping the cloak off.

"Oh." Cadmus exhaled a long, shaky breath and lowered his wand. "You frightened me, Ignotus. Won't you come in?"

Perhaps that was what tipped Ignotus off – the cordialness in Cadmus's tone, and the polite invitation into the small cottage. Surely his brother didn't like living in such a small space; Cadmus preferred the grandeur of a castle to a small cottage. And they had butted heads so much in the past year that Ignotus couldn't understand why his brother should be so friendly.

The inside was as strange as Cadmus's tone had been. In the light of the floating baubles on the ceiling, Ignotus noticed a large cauldron to his left. It was turned on its side. Thick black liquid still coated part of a wall and had congealed in the bottom of the cauldron, as well as all along the floor.

Frowning slightly at the oddness of the scene, Ignotus turned and asked, "What on earth happened?"

Cadmus glanced at the cauldron, as though he had only just seen it himself. "Oh, that? A minor accident, but nothing serious, I assure you. Cearo was making a batch of potion to sooth the baby, and it didn't quite go as planned, but all is well now. I haven't had a chance to clean it. Forgive me."

"Clean it? What of the house elves that mother sent you? Surely they can clean this," Ignotus asked dubiously. His brother had never so much as cleaned anything in his life; he relied on the elves to do everything for him, and always had.

"Ah. Well. I sent them back to Peverell Castle." Cadmus flushed slightly. "They have been a huge help, but I don't particularly need them any longer, and mother can use them more than I can."

A wave of grief washed over Ignotus again as he thought of their mother. He blinked back tears and said, "That is why I've come. Please sit down."

"What is the matter?" Cadmus looked highly alarmed at his brother's expression, and offered Ignotus a seat.

Trying not to cry in front of Cadmus, Ignotus told his brother about Tearlach's letter, Antioch's death, and Quilla's suicide. Cadmus was quiet throughout the tale; he looked as stunned as Ignotus felt.

"And so you see," Ignotus finished quietly, "the Steward and I need for you, Cearo, and the baby to return home at once. You are rightful heir of Peverell Castle now, upon Antioch's death."

Cadmus said nothing. After a few moments, he rose, and walked about the room, as though deep in thought.

Finally he whispered, "Are you absolutely certain? That mother is dead?"

"Yes. I verified it this morning myself. She drank half a bottle of the Draught of Sleeping Death, Cadmus. That would kill anyone."

Cadmus opened a door, presumably to a bedroom, and called out, "Cearo? Would half a bottle of the Draught of Living Death kill someone?"

Ignotus heard his sister-in-law's voice, though it sounded as if it were far away.

"Oh, heavens! Cadmus, you know very well that it would! Please, let me –!"

"No, no. Stay with the baby. Ignotus and I can discuss it." He shut the door again and turned back to pace the room some more.

Ignotus frowned at the door, then glanced at Cadmus. "Is Cearo alright? She could be a great help in the matter. Her specialty is potions."

"No, she's quite busy." Cadmus's tone was short, and indicated that the subject was final. He sighed, as though he regretted this outburst, and whispered, "I cannot believe it. Antioch… and mother… both dead? It's too horrific to think about…!"

"I know. I can hardly process it myself. Please, come home, Cadmus –"

"Peace! I need to think!" Without warning, Cadmus turned to the door, wrenched it open, and stormed outside. Ignotus was highly startled by this strange behavior, but by the time he reached the door, Cadmus had broken into a run and was halfway across the meadow in front of the cottage.

What on earth was wrong with his brother? Perplexed and worried, Ignotus decided not to follow him. He would do better to get answers from Cearo. Turning, he went back inside the cottage, glanced once at the ominous cauldron, and strode to the bedroom door.

"Cearo? Are you in there? I need to speak with you. Cadmus has run off!"

There was a long pause, and he heard Cearo's voice – distant and strange. "Please come in, Ignotus. _Please_. I need to speak with you, too."

Ignotus opened the door, but the bedroom looked perfectly normal. A cradle was set up beside the bed, and Cerberus was sleeping peacefully within. Cearo was standing on the far side of the room, her head tilted slightly as she watched Ignotus stop and look around.

There was something wrong. There was a strange, faint shimmer about the edges of her body. She didn't seem quite solid, but he couldn't see through her, either. She came towards him, her eyes large and seeking. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't place what that was.

"Do I look odd to you?" she asked.

Her voice was still hollow and distant. A memory flickered in the back of his mind.

"What is going on?" The worry was clear in his voice – there was no way for him to keep it out, now. Something was dreadfully _wrong_.

"We don't have much time before he'll return, so I must speak quickly. I had the baby but a few days ago, and the birth was perfectly normal. I have a healthy son, Ignotus."

"But Cadmus said you made a potion for the baby."

"Cadmus lied. About much." Cearo looked sad. "I made a potion to help with the after-effects of the birth. For me. I have never made it before and it's quite tricky. I added the ingredients incorrectly. It exploded."

"Yes, I could see that." Ignotus glanced back into the main room at the cauldron and the mess.

"It killed me, Ignotus."

Her voice was gentle, quite kind. Ignotus jolted and stumbled backwards from her. It struck him full force why she looked so odd – he had seen the same oddness when Cadmus had brought their father into the dungeon, and when Godric had brought his sister into the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"Wait… _what_?"

"I am dead. I have been dead for two days. The explosion also killed the two house elves. They were assisting me at the time. Cadmus buried our bodies, and then brought my spirit back into the world of the living with the stone."

Horrified, Ignotus cried, "No! That can't be, the stone doesn't –"

She cut him off. "Correct. The stone doesn't work that way. The woman Godric summoned into the Great Hall but three weeks ago made it clear that the stone only brings back a shadow of the deceased, and she was correct. It is as though I am a ghost or a memory made solid, but I am not alive. Cadmus refuses to believe me. Please, Ignotus. I can't stay here. The dead cannot live in the world of the living. Cadmus is concerned for himself and the baby, but you must take them both back to Peverell Castle and have the house elves take care of them, or else find a witch midwife. I cannot give my son what he needs and Cadmus cannot, either. He is delusional, Ignotus."

Ignotus sank into a nearby chair, disbelieving. "This cannot be."

"It is all true."

He looked up at her, taking in the way she didn't look solid, the way the light blurred around her body and made it seem as though she was fading away slightly.

"Why do your clothes look as they do?" he asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Cearo looked confused.

"They're clean. You said the potion exploded. When Godric summoned his sister into the Great Hall, and when Cadmus summoned our father the night before that, both looked just as they had when they died. They were bloody."

"I suppose it must be because Cadmus changed my clothing before he buried me, and cleaned the blood from my body." Her brow furrowed. "He also knit the wounds back together. I assume that he didn't want to summon me back and have me appear bloody and ripped apart. I must have looked truly horrific, because he hasn't been himself at all. I think perhaps my body reminded him of his father's death. I don't know exactly what my wounds were, because Cadmus repaired them before burial."

Ignotus shuddered. "And he thinks he has thwarted Death?"

"He does. I am sorry your mother and Antioch are also dead. That only leaves you and Cadmus." Her expression became troubled. "And I fear he is addled."

"God help me, I don't know what to do." Ignotus buried his face in his hands.

"We will think of some way to convince him. Come; let us wait for him. Cerberus is sleeping now."

"Very well. But I don't think he will be convinced."

"I don't think so, either," she said sadly. "But we must try."

**oOo**

It was late in the afternoon before Cadmus returned. In the meantime, Ignotus and Cearo carried on a strained conversation. He felt odd talking with her, knowing that she was dead. She showed him the graves, so he would know where they were located, and so he could bring Cerberus to them one day when the boy was old enough to understand. Ignotus asked if she would like him to move her grave to the Peverell Necropolis, but she insisted her body remain where it was, and Ignotus was too tired and too numb to argue. She also asked him to write her father with the news of her death, which he agreed to do.

Eventually, they saw Cadmus trudging back to the cottage from across the meadow. They waited patiently until he came to them, and it wasn't until he was right in front of them that he realized they were both there. He glanced between Cearo and Ignotus, his brow furrowing.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

It was as though they had never had a conversation earlier at all. Ignotus stared at him, disbelieving. "Yes, Cadmus! Much is wrong! Father, mother, Antioch, and Cearo are all dead. The stone doesn't work the way you planned; it only brings back a shadow of the person you summon!"

Cadmus smiled at him. "Of course the stone works. Cearo is here, isn't she? Did she tell you she died, and I brought her back to life? I have tricked Death, Ignotus."

"No." Ignotus's kept his tone quiet. Arguing with Cadmus would do no good. "She is dead, Cadmus. You haven't brought her back to life. You have only brought back a shadow. You cannot change the laws of Death."

"Ignotus is right, and you are well aware of it," Cearo whispered. "I am but a shadow, a memory. Please, return me to the dead, Cadmus. I cannot stay here."

"But you are alive; don't you see that? And Cerberus will need you. I don't understand why you don't feed him."

"I _can't_ feed him!" Cearo practically sobbed the words in frustration; she pulled at her hair and clenched her fists. "I'm _dead_! Release me, Cadmus!"

"Cadmus, this is madness." Ignotus scowled. "Do as she asks. And if you won't, give me the stone and I will release her, and then you and I will go back to Peverell Castle together, with Cerberus. The house elves can care for him –"

"No!" Cadmus finally seemed furious, finally pushed past his strange, calm exterior. "And I will recall mother and Antioch, too! And father! We will be as we were, and everything will be fine!"

"You will do no such thing," Ignotus said sharply. "I won't allow it, and in any case, they wouldn't _want_ to return. Mother committed suicide! And father and Antioch would chastise you for bringing them back – father has already done so! Give me the stone!"

"You just want to control Death yourself," Cadmus snarled, backing away from him. "Do you have Antioch's wand, too? Do you want to be a master of Death with our Hallowed Objects?"

" _No!_ I already told you that the wand has gone missing, because Antioch was stupid enough to boast of its power! And I don't want to cheat Death any longer! I want to live, and I want you and Cerberus to join me! Put the stone aside, Cadmus! It doesn't work as you hoped!"

"I will do no such thing!" Cadmus screamed, and now he seemed utterly mad, eyes popping and cheeks quivering. Before Ignotus could stop him, Cadmus was running off again, muttering to himself and covering his ears with his hands.

Cearo grabbed Ignotus's arm, and her fingers felt icy. "He will come back. He runs off quite often to control his temper and then he returns when he thinks he is normal again."

"He _is_ mad." Ignotus's shoulders drooped as he remembered the students of Rowena Ravenclaw, claiming that Cadmus had gone mad after Corvus's death. "He has been mad since father's death. If he won't listen to me, I'll have to Stun him to get the stone away from him. _Circe_ , I don't know what to do! I never thought I would have to face something this horrible!"

"I can distract him so you can Stun him, if it comes down to it. A spell would merely go through me, without harm."

"I'm so sorry." Ignotus felt tears in his eyes again – he was sick of wanting to cry. "I wish I could help you, or bring you back for real, but I know that's impossible. He doesn't see it."

Cearo shook her head. "He is not the man I fell in love with, two years ago." She paused, and then asked, "How is Callisto?"

Ignotus felt a jolt as he remembered the girl he loved. He had not thought of her in the past day.

"I have not contacted her since I returned home from school. She…" He hesitated, but decided he may as well tell Cearo the truth. Cearo was dead; whom would she tell in return? He would be sending her back to the afterlife soon enough. So he said softly, "Callisto is Godric Gryffindor's niece."

Cearo's eyes widened. "What?"

"She witnessed the deaths of her parents as a child – ordered by those working for Salazar Slytherin against the Muggle-borns. She has been helping Master Godric fight against Master Salazar for years by weaving garments that protect the wearer from basic attack spells. That is why she wove cloth while we were at school. She and Cantrella plan to join Godric's ranks as soon as they leave Hogwarts. Since Master Salazar disappeared, the Blood War will begin in earnest, now. They want me to join them."

Cearo gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh, _Ignotus_ …!"

"I don't know if I should. But even if I wanted to, I don't think I can, now. I had planned to, but I didn't know how to tell mother. I didn't think she would allow me to go, but now she's dead. Antioch didn't want me involved in a war, either – but he's dead, as well. I can barely get my head around it all. And Cadmus is out of his mind, so I will need to take care of Cerberus."

Cearo was silent for a long time. But she finally whispered, "You are a stronger man than Cadmus. That is why Master Godric took you into his fold, Ignotus. Believe that."

"But I don't feel strong at all," Ignotus cried. His emotions seemed to burst from him. "I feel weak! Horribly weak! I've lost my entire family, and I don't know what to do! I'm barely old enough to be considered a man, and –"

Cearo interrupted. "Contact Master Godric, Ignotus. He would _want_ you to tell him about this. He would want to _help_ you."

"He's too busy with the Blood War. Master Salazar will be fighting outright, now." Ignotus felt bitter and confused.

Cearo shook her head. "No, Salazar Slytherin never does anything in the open. Has not six years at Hogwarts taught you that? He will remain in the shadows, and Master Godric will continue fighting a shadow. You need to let Master Godric know what has happened to you. He can help you. He will know what to do."

But Ignotus could not see how, and he fell silent. Cearo, too, said no more – and they waited in silence.

**oOo**

It was dusk before Cadmus finally returned again. He hesitated when he saw that Ignotus and Cearo were still waiting for him, but after a moment he continued his trek to the cottage.

After a bit of silence, he whispered, "Cearo… Please allow me speak to my brother. Alone."

Cearo nodded and sadly returned into the cottage.

Wearily, Cadmus sat down on a log beside the door, and Ignotus joined him, though warily. Cadmus opened his palm and they stared down at the black stone, seemingly innocent, for a long time.

"You are right," Cadmus finally said heavily. "It does not work as I hoped. I have failed."

"You did not fail. It is still extraordinary magic."

"It is a curse, brother. A terrible curse."

Ignotus frowned. "Only if you allow it to be so."

Cadmus went on, as though he had not heard Ignotus. "It brings back shadows, but doesn't return life to a body." His eyes flickered to the graves, some distance away. "The body hasn't returned from the grave."

"And it won't." Ignotus twitched, desperate to get the stone away from his brother.

"I don't like to admit that I failed. Mistress Rowena accepted me because of my intelligence, and yet I have proven nothing except that I am mad. I am tired of losing everything around me, and being able to do nothing about it."

"You haven't lost me. Or Cerberus."

"Cearo… Mother… Father… Antioch… I cannot believe Antioch is dead. He was such a talented dueler…"

"I still must retrieve his body. You can come with me, and help me. It will take both of us to get it back from Findlay."

But Cadmus did not seem to hear him. "When the cauldron exploded, I felt helpless. There was so much blood… I had to clean it immediately. And that infernal baby was crying because the noise was so loud… I couldn't make him stop, so I Silenced him… I buried Cearo and the elves, because I wanted to see if they would return from the grave when I Summoned them. But they didn't. The stone is a worthless curse, not a grand achievement. Devastation has consumed me."

" _Stop_ ," Ignotus begged. "You have your son to live for! Listen to me! Focus on _him_ –"

"I didn't want him. Cearo wanted him."

"He is a part of you. You can learn to love him. Love is stronger than Death; don't you remember the discussions last term?"

Cadmus smiled sadly at him. "You are wrong. Don't you see it? So many have died. Death is the ultimate power. Master Salazar was right."

" _Enough_ ," Ignotus demanded. "And let us go home."

The older brother fell silent, and Ignotus waited, hoping against hope. Finally, Cadmus said, "Go walk for a bit. Let me tell her goodbye, before I send her back. Please?"

Ignotus paused. Then he nodded, rose, and said, "I will return in a few moments. Say your goodbyes. Tell her goodbye for me, too."

"I will do so."

Ignotus turned and began to walk. He walked to the forest and into it a ways, but it was chilly and dim. The sunset streaked across the sky in the meadow, but the forest was darkening quickly. He did not stay as long as he felt Cadmus wanted him to, but kept to the fringe and watched the cottage in the distance. The smoke curled up from the chimney, but Cadmus did not come back outside. After ten minutes, Ignotus started back, worry mounting within him.

He knocked on the cottage door, but no one responded. Frowning, he pushed it open and went inside.

"Cadmus?"

There was no answer, Ignotus lit his wand and glanced around the room. To his horror, he saw a prone shape on the floor by the fire, and he ran to it, but stopped as he reached it.

Blood was seeping across the floor; Cadmus had fallen upon his sword. His eyes were wide, unseeing and blank; his skin already looked like stone. A trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth. A note lay on the floor beside him, with the stone on top of it, and Ignotus snatched both up with shaking hands.

_Take care of the child._

Ignotus let out a sharp, furious cry and flung the note into the fire; it curled and disintegrated immediately. He clutched the stone between white knuckles. He was tempted to call Cearo back and question her on what happened, but he refused. Anger and despair filled him – Cadmus had been weak, and mad, but that was no reason for him to take his own life!

A sudden cry startled Ignotus from his intense anguish, and he left Cadmus's body and hurried into the bedroom. Cerberus was wailing in his cradle, and Ignotus stared at the baby. He would have to raise the child himself, but he had no idea what to do. The boy was probably hungry; when had he last eaten? Had Cadmus been able to feed him? No, Cadmus had complained that Cearo wasn't feeding Cerberus, so there was no telling when the boy had last eaten. In panic, Ignotus did the only thing he could think of: he gasped the names _Mippy_ , _Bobsy_.

Instantly, both elves cracked into appearance before him – the old one and the young one. They stared at him with wide eyes, and looked around the room.

To his horror, Mippy sniffed the air and gasped, "I smells blood, sir! Is Master Ignotus safe?"

"Yes," he said thickly, tears gathering in his eyes. "It is Cadmus's blood you smell."

"Master Cadmus!" Mippy looked petrified. "Where is he?"

"He is dead. Cearo is dead, too."

Bobsy clapped her hands to her mouth, and Mippy wailed and pulled her ears, but Ignotus did not give them a chance to really get going. "The baby," he said, lifting it awkwardly from the cradle. "I don't know what to do! He's hungry and cold, and I've never been near a baby in my life! Please help me!"

Bobsy recovered first, and tripped forward. "I will help, Master Ignotus. There is elves at Peverell Castle which took care of Masters Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. They will know what to do. I can take him back, sir."

Ignotus nodded. "Thank you," he choked.

"What of Master Cadmus, sir?" Mippy whispered.

"I will bury him myself. Please go with Bobsy, Mippy."

Mippy nodded, and she, Bobsy, and Cerberus vanished with a crack. Ignotus rubbed his face harshly, stumbled back outside, grabbed Cadmus's feet, and dragged him out to the yard.

It was hard work, but he didn't think to use his wand until he reached Cearo's grave. Then he remembered he was a wizard, not a Muggle. He turned and waved his wand over the dirt. It cracked and split, and a hole opened up. Without preamble, Ignotus used his wand to move his brother's body into the hole, and waved the dirt back over it. It was unceremonious, but he didn't care. He could do nothing for his brother now and he wanted to leave this horrible place. He found two large stones nearby in the garden, and carved the names upon them with his wand, and set them up at the heads of the graves.

By now, it was dark. He glanced at the cottage before throwing the cloak around his body and tucking the stone into his pocket. He did not want anyone to find it or use it. As for the wand, he had no idea where it had gone, and he would not go and look for it. The wand had made it clear that Ignotus was not its owner, and would not work for him. Perhaps it would work for someone else, one day.

With one last look at the four fresh graves, Ignotus Disapparated back to Peverell Castle.


	16. Chapter 16

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## Partings

****

Bull was waiting for Ignotus by the time he reached the heavy drawbridge of Peverell Castle.

"Where have you been?" the older wizard snarled. "I've been worried sick for you! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? I would have come with you! It's dark out, and those two elves only told me that you would speak to me when you returned! They refused to tell me anything else! Yet they've been wailing and sobbing since they arrived, and they brought Master Cadmus's son here! What the _devil_ is going on?"

Ignotus stepped into the dark entry and gazed about at the thick walls and heavy tapestries. This had been his home since his birth, and he loved it dearly, but tonight it felt oppressive and weighted, and he rather wished he could run away. He sighed deeply and looked at Bull – a man who had served the Peverell family since before Ignotus's birth. If nothing else, he still had Bull.

"Please sit down," Ignotus said quietly. "I have bad tidings."

**oOo**

Ignotus fell asleep by the fire in the parlor that night, too exhausted to eat or go to his chambers. The next morning he awoke with a terrible crick in his neck, not to mention he was cold; the fire had died at some point in the early hours and was naught but ash. He stretched and rose, running a hand over his face and feeling distinctly rumpled and dirty. He needed a bath, and some breakfast.

But he didn't get a chance to get that far.

One of the house elves appeared before him, bowing nervously. "If Master so pleases, the Steward needs Master in the entry, immediately sir!"

Ignotus sighed. "Very well. Tell him I will be there momentarily."

The elf vanished to return to Bull, and Ignotus headed out of the parlor and down the stone staircase to the ground level. But when he reached the entry hall, he was even more displeased to see several men standing around, looking surly. Bull, on the other hand, looked angry. The second he saw Ignotus, he started, "Master Ignotus, forgive me, but –"

One of the men stepped forward and spoke over Bull, which absolutely infuriated Ignotus. It showed an immense lack of propriety to speak over the Steward of any household, without being introduced first.

"Ah, so _you_ are Ignotus," the man said, his voice oily. He smiled, showing just the tips of his teeth. "Your brother spoke of you. I heard you were a talented fighter."

"And who are _you_?" Ignotus demanded, not bothering to keep the irritation from his tone. "It is discourteous to speak to the master of a fortress such as this, before introductions are made properly by the Steward."

The man's smile vanished, and the others behind him shifted. Ignotus noticed their fingers itched towards their wands, and he wondered if he could get his out before they attacked.

But the man before him held his hand to the side, motioning them to remain quiet. He hitched his smile back into place. "Do forgive me. I am Tearlach Findlay, head of the Clan of Findlay. I have brought your brother's body to its home, which is far more than it deserves, the ungrateful braggart."

Ignotus felt as though someone had struck him with a hot iron, but Tearlach was still speaking.

"You see, your brother betrayed us, after your father swore a blood allegiance to our cause. We are short of fighters, and after the body is buried, you will need to return with us to the war, to fulfill your father's promises."

Ignotus clenched his fists to keep from shaking; he could not deal with this right now. He snarled, "I will do no such thing! How _dare_ you come here, accusing Antioch of treachery, when you sent _my father_ to his death instead of standing in his stead as was your place! The fight with the MacBain Clan is strictly against Findlay – _you_ should have fought Athol that day, yet you deferred! You are a sniveling _coward_ , and I _refuse_ to fight for a coward! Especially one who claims such a weak blood tie to us as you do!"

The warriors behind Tearlach pulled their wands and bared their teeth menacingly, but Ignotus plowed on, his temper fully away from him. "And _worse_ , you come here, making threats against me, after I have lost both of my brothers, my mother, _and_ my sister-in-law within two days. _How dare you!_ "

" _Ignotus!_ " Bull's voice rang out, and Ignotus suddenly realized he had his wand at Tearlach's throat. Tearlach looked livid and petrified at the same time. Ignotus didn't care; he was too infuriated to think clearly.

" _Get out_ ," Ignotus snarled again. "And _do not_ return here! As the last remaining son of the Peverell family, I have duties far more important than giving my blood to a clan of cowards, who cannot hold their own fortresses without help from _extremely_ distant relatives who have the misfortune to share a common ancestor five generations removed! I have my nephew to raise, and _he_ is my priority, not _you_!"

" _You dare to draw your wand on me?_ " Tearlach suddenly thundered. He reared back, and Ignotus reacted without thought.

He first cast a powerful protection spell, silently. Godric had not taught him for naught, and the warriors behind Findlay cast their spells a second too late in vain – they bounced off of Ignotus's protection spell and rebounded around the entry hall. Several men were hit by their own spells. Ignotus himself fired several spells in repetition; four of the remaining men yelled, glittering sparks and explosions rocketed about, and when the smoke finally cleared, Ignotus saw that Tearlach and his men were lying prone on the ground.

He kicked Tearlach onto his back and scowled down into the man's blank face. He had been Stunned.

"Steward Corey," Ignotus said. His voice was calmer now.

"Yes, Master Ignotus?" Bull sounded wary.

"We must erase their memories, and plant false ones instead. Then we will have our warriors take them to a nearby village and put them in an inn."

"What sort of false memories?"

"We need to make them believe that they approved of Antioch's decision to break ties with them. We need to make them forget they came here and saw me, but only that they delivered Antioch's body to you."

"I have confidence we can do that." Bull cast his Patronus, which shot off towards the armory.

Ignotus felt bile rising in his throat at the entire situation. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. I just…"

Bull placed a kind hand on his shoulder. "You have had several terrible blows within two days, Master Ignotus. No one can blame you for losing your temper with Tearlach Findlay. I was infuriated when I opened the drawbridge and saw him. If he had not had Master Antioch's body, I would have turned him away."

"We'll need to bury it," Ignotus whispered, glancing at the figure wrapped in course, bloodstained cloth, lying on the floor nearby. He felt tears threatening to fall, but held them back. He wasn't certain he could open the cloth, but he would have to. He would have to identify Antioch.

"We will, lad. Don't worry."

Ringing footsteps echoed along the corridors, and Ignotus mastered himself quickly. Within seconds, the few warriors who pledged their lives to the Peverell family appeared, and stared in horror at the scene. Most had been close friends of Corvus, men who had lost their own families or else who not been very high up the social ladder of wizarding society, yet were high enough to earn a place in a wealthy household as a warrior.

"Dervel," the Steward called.

One of the younger warriors stepped forward with his wand slightly outstretched towards the Findlay warriors. "Yes, sir?"

"You perform an excellent memory charm, do you not?"

"Aye, sir. That was one of the reasons why Master Corvus took me on."

"We'll need to erase their memories and supplant new ones. You must make them believe they approved of Antioch's decision to separate the Peverell family from Clan Findlay, and make them forget they came here except to deliver his body. Then, once the charms are sealed, we will take them to a nearby village and put them in an inn. They'll wake up later and hopefully they won't remember anything."

"I can do that, sir. With ease." Dervel bowed to Ignotus, and stepped forward to cast the spells.

**oOo**

Ignotus didn't sleep well that night. He kept thinking of Tearlach Findlay. Fury bubbled within his chest at the very idea that the man had had the audacity to show up and demand his allegiance as the price for Antioch's severing the ties, even after Ignotus had lost four family members within two days.

Ignotus had accompanied Bull and the warriors to the nearest village in the early evening, and helped sneak the still-unconscious Findlay warriors into an inn. It required altering the memory of the Muggle owner, and Ignotus hoped the charms would hold. Dervel had agreed to remain hidden in the village until morning, to ensure that Findlay left without further provocation. He promised Ignotus that his memory charms were the best in the isles, and he had been taught by Mistress Rowena some ten years prior. Ignotus hoped he was right.

In the meantime, the house elves had taken Antioch's body, washed it, and clothed it. They had tied a scarf around Antioch's neck to hide the gaping slash, so Ignotus would not have to see it.

The next morning, as the sky was growing light, Bull notified Ignotus that Dervel had returned, and Ignotus rushed down to the entry to meet him. Dervel confirmed that Findlay and his men had left without any problems. The false memories were working well and the Muggle in charge of the inn suspected nothing. Ignotus breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

As soon as everyone had eaten a meager breakfast, those who remained in Peverell Castle gathered to take Antioch's and Quilla's bodies to the Peverell Necropolis, where they would be buried together. Several of the older elves and two older wizard warriors agreed to remain behind to care for Cerberus and the Fortress. Ignotus did not like the idea of leaving his nephew unprotected, but there was little choice in the matter. He had to bury his mother and brother.

They took a Portkey to the Peverell Necropolis to ensure they all arrived safely. It was a place that Ignotus had never visited before, and he was glad that Bull knew all of the spells required to enter the place. He shivered as soon as the gates appeared with the lifting of the spells, and he had the chance to look around. It was a creepy, small graveyard. He immediately saw the tree that Antioch had referred to as his wand tree. The gnarled elder tree looked ancient and mean and scraggily in appearance, and Ignotus avoided it as the small band of wizards made their way to Corvus's vault.

Antioch and Quilla were buried inside, alongside Corvus's coffin, and their names were carved into the outside of the vault's door. There was no ceremony, but the wizard warriors removed their hats and bowed their heads as the stone door was resealed.

Then it was time to leave, and Ignotus was grateful that the task had not taken but thirty minutes of the day. He hoped to never visit this place again, for he greatly disliked it. He had no intentions of moving Cadmus and Cearo there; that was for certain. He could not bear to dig up their bodies and move them.

Once back at Peverell Castle, he asked that the house elves bring Cerberus to the parlor so he could watch them, and they complied. The baby was quiet, and Ignotus was glad. He didn't think he could deal with wailing, but he didn't want to take his eyes off the child any more than was necessary. Bull brought his dinner to him, and he ate in lonely silence.

He suspected the next few days would be much of the same – the dull hollow within his chest may or may not lessen, the house elves would continue to watch his nephew, and he would watch them all. Bull and the warriors would keep an ear out to make sure the memory charms held on Findlay, and he would eventually have to send an owl to Godric.

Perhaps that was the hardest part. He would have to let Godric know that he could not join the Blood War, because he had to care for Cerberus now. And furthermore, he could not return to Hogwarts, because his duty to his nephew outweighed his duty to continue his studies into his seventh year. It was a difficult blow, and he blamed Cadmus for saddling him with this new future, but blame didn't erase the fact that he was now responsible for far more than he could have imagined a month earlier.

Eventually, he dozed off in the chair before the fire, while the elves continued to take shifts watching the baby, though he slept fitfully.

**oOo**

The castle stood out bleak against the gray sky, and as Godric gazed towards it, he felt his heart ache. It was just like his stubborn student not to contact him when all hell broke loose. He did have a penchant for choosing students who believed they were strong enough to take on the world, that much was certain.

"He didn't contact me either, if it makes you feel better," a voice behind him said quietly.

Godric smiled sadly. He should have known his niece would read his mind; she was quite good at it, even if she wasn't looking directly at him. Their blood tie made it easier for her to hear his thoughts. He murmured, "I suspect he has had much on his mind. He has had to grow into a man _and_ the head of the Peverell House in the space of only a few days. That would be hard enough on anyone. Do not judge him too harshly, dear one."

Another voice snorted uncouthly. "Harshly my arse. Even if he agrees to your plan, Master Godric, the warriors who reside here, those who pledged their lives to Corvus Peverell…they may up and leave. And then what?"

"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it, 'Ella." He started to walk, and without looking back, he added, "Stay close behind me and keep your guard up."

"You hardly need remind us," Cantrella snapped. "All hell has broken loose. I _sleep_ holding my wand these days, even _if_ I live with you, now."

Godric almost laughed at her terseness. Cantrella was as stubborn as Ignotus and Callisto and every other student he had personally taught. Oh, why did he have to select the ones with fire in their veins? Would be easier if he had Helga's task. Hers were stubborn, but at least they accepted help from each other and their Mistress. Rowena's students too, for they were wise enough to know when they needed help. But then, he wouldn't trade his students for anything in the world, not even when they were stubborn. And he was grateful his niece and Cantrella were such fierce fighters.

"Let us hope," he said with mock cheerfulness, "that the House of Black do not suspect you would come here, 'Ella. Then we would have even more problems."

She snorted again. "The House of Black is too busy killing Muggle-borns to get involved in a battle with those who live at Peverell Fortress."

"Do not be so hasty to say so. I would put nothing past your charming relatives."

He could almost see Cantrella roll her eyes behind him, but he didn't turn to look at her. A week earlier, when her family had discovered that Cantrella had left them, Godric Gryffindor had heard tale that the Blacks were beyond furious. Cantrella had originally planned to leave her family after her tutelage at Hogwarts was complete. But Salazar's betrayal meant that she would have to leave the House of Black a year earlier than anticipated.

Cantrella's mother and the rest of her relatives had disowned her immediately, and her cousins vowed to kill her on sight. Cantrella was, perhaps, in the most dangerous position of all of his fighters against Salazar, for she was the only member of the House of Black to openly defy her family's strong position against Muggle-borns and the Blood War. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of her getting hurt or being killed, but Cantrella would fight in any battle that came their way, and she would be proud of it. The mark from the previous winter was still visible on her face, and was proof enough of that. He could not stop her from fighting, just as he could not stop Callisto from staying with him when her parents were killed.

As they came closer to the Fortress, he cast his Patronus, which raced off for the battlements. Bull Corey had contacted him the night before, explaining the horrific details of what had occurred over the past two days. Godric had been crushed to learn that Antioch had been killed, especially over that infernal wand, and that Quilla had committed suicide in her grief. Godric had known Quilla and Corvus for years, and he was as devastated over their deaths as he had been over his sister's death ten years prior. He couldn't have believed the news could be worse, but Bull had further explained that Cadmus and Cearo had both died as well; Cearo had been killed when a cauldron exploded, and Cadmus had taken his life out of a sense of failure over that wretched stone. Within one year, nearly all of the Peverell family had died. Only Ignotus, and Cadmus's son, remained alive.

Bull had also detailed that Ignotus had lost his temper with Tearlach Findlay. Godric couldn't find wonder at that. Tearlach was a snake of a man; he would have been Sorted into Salazar's house if he had attended Hogwarts. Godric had never approved of Corvus's allegiance to the Clan of Findlay, but Corvus had been reluctant to break the tie that was based on a blood link, even if it dated back at least five generations. It was good to know that Ignotus held no qualms about severing the same tie, and Godric had half a mind to kill Findlay himself for daring to demand Ignotus join the Clan Wars in the north after the boy had dealt with so much in just two days. No, he could not blame Ignotus for Stunning the lot of them.

As they approached the drawbridge, it lowered for them and Bull was waiting on the other side, along with several wizard warriors that Corvus had taken in over the years. They were all strong, good men, but Godric did not know if they would swear allegiance to him, should Ignotus chose to accept Godric's offer.

"Well met, Godric Gryffindor," Bull said seriously, extending his hand.

Godric clasped it and sighed. "Under terms I would have not wished for, but yes, well met, Bull Corey. This is my niece, Callisto Stewart – and Cantrella Dreux, one of my fighters."

Bull glanced warily at Cantrella, and beckoned them into the courtyard as the warriors closed the drawbridge again. "I heard rumors that a young woman left the House of Black to join you, and that they are in an uproar over her betrayal. I have been expecting to hear reports of battles, but none have come to me yet."

"None have occurred yet," Godric replied. His brow furrowed in worry. "I expected Salazar to attack openly, as soon as the term ended at Hogwarts, but he has not done so. Give him time, however. We will not have peace for long."

"Those here at Peverell Fortress agreed last night, when we received word that you would come today, that we would support you however we can. But we will not leave Master Ignotus unless he gives us permission to do so."

"That, my friend, is more than I could hope for. Where is he?"

"In the parlor, where he has been for the past few days. He is struggling to comprehend all that has happened. The elves tend the child, but Ignotus hardly leaves the room, for he is frightened of taking his eyes off Cerberus. He won't even go to his chambers to sleep in his bed. A black shadow follows the Peverell family, and we all fear Ignotus or Cerberus will be next."

"I doubt it," Callisto said, interrupting the conversation. When the men turned to stare at her, she said, "Ignotus has his cloak. Antioch made the wand to defeat Death, and Cadmus made the stone to cheat Death. But Ignotus wove the cloak out of Love. And so the cloak protects him."

"Cloak? What cloak?" Bull frowned. "We know nothing of this."

Godric, Callisto, and Cantrella exchanged glances. Then Godric said, "You are unfamiliar with the challenges at Hogwarts this past term?"

Bull shook his head. "I am not. Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus did not mention anything about challenges when they came home at Yule."

"The Founders challenged all of the students to complete a task of their own choosing this past term. Each student selected something different, based on their level of study. Antioch wished to study wandlore, and so created an extremely powerful wand. Even Ollivander claimed it was a highly powerful and dangerous creation. Antioch used it to defeat Athol MacBain in the Clan Wars, but now, with Antioch's death, it has gone missing. If what Tearlach says is true, and Antioch boasted of the wand in an establishment, then there is no telling where it has gone. Cadmus, however, took a different approach. He was determined to bring the dead back to life – specifically, he wanted to bring Corvus back."

Bull blanched. "But the laws of Death are absolute!"

Godric's mouth tightened grimly. "As most of us well know. But Cadmus thought he could overturn them. He did accomplish truly brilliant magic, and the stone he created is able to bring an echo back from the dead. A shadow, more solid than a ghost, but not alive. The dead cannot be made undead. From what you told me of Cadmus's death, I assume he attempted to bring Cearo back from the dead, and when he realized that wasn't working… when Ignotus confronted him about it… I suppose he lost his own will to live. He believed he had failed his challenge, despite the extraordinary magic he achieved."

"And Ignotus?"

"Using a huge portion of his personal fortune, he purchased a Demiguise pelt from the far East. Most Britons have never even heard of such creatures. They have the ability to make themselves invisible and are extremely difficult to track. Those in the East fight to the death over such a prize as a Demiguise pelt. Ignotus was able to purchase one, dissect it, thread the hairs into a loom, and weave a bolt of fabric. All the while, he cast spells upon the fabric, so that when he cut it into a cloak, it would render the wearer invisible. The cloak, perhaps, is the most interesting of all three objects, because Ignotus did not finish it to defeat Death or cheat Death. Perhaps that was how he began his project, but during the winter, his ambition changed. He instead completed it out of memory for his friend Ross, who was killed this year."

"Murdered," Cantrella said coldly, her voice stinging and sharp. "Salazar's students goaded him into fighting a graphorn by himself."

Bull closed his eyes as though in pain. " _Great Circe_."

Callisto added hollowly, "Cantrella and I did not arrive in time to save Ross. We barely saved Ignotus, who was severely injured trying to save Ross himself."

"I knew nothing of that, either. I wish he had told me." Bull looked saddened and horrified.

"Tthat incident, I'm afraid, is what led to the fight my colleagues and I engaged in," Godric said, sighing heavily. "And why Salazar left the school. I told him his students had committed murder, and that he had put them up to it. I believe that to this day. Naturally, he refuted me."

"So if Ignotus has been using the cloak," Dervel asked cautiously, "does that mean that Death won't find him?"

The other warriors glanced nervously at each other, and Bull watched Godric closely for the answer.

"One can only hope," Godric said slowly. "But I cannot answer for certain. Well. Enough. Take me to him, Bull. I have a proposition for him, but I'm afraid that it will require a great deal on his part, as well as all of you, should we all be in agreement."

"We are ready to fight," another wizard warrior said. "We joined Corvus because he believed in the same things we did. Equality, and fairness. We will do whatever needs to be done, sir."

Godric chuckled. "You, my friend, would have done well under Helga!"

**oOo**

The door to the parlor opened, but Ignotus didn't even look up. He was watching Cerberus sleep in front of the fire. Babies didn't seem to do much except sleep, fuss, and eat. It was dull work, just sitting and watching, but at least the elves knew what they were doing. He had sent them away for the afternoon, so they could get some rest, but they would return to him before dinner and resume their care of the child.

"Master Ignotus," Bull's voice drifted across the room, "someone to see you."

"Herpo's fucking arse, if it's Findlay again, I'll kill him," Ignotus growled, standing and drawing his wand at the same time.

But to his shock, Godric, Callisto, and Cantrella entered the room, all watching him soberly. His mouth fell open and his wand dropped slightly.

"Master Godric, _I'm sorry_ , forgive me –"

"Nothing to be sorry about," Godric said gently, coming into the room while stripping his cloak off. An elf took it from him, and he thanked the creature kindly before it disappeared. Then he said, "I heard you had a nasty run-in with Findlay the other day, and that he and his men came out the worse for it."

Ignotus paled. "I was angry. I attacked without thinking."

"Justifiably so." Godric stopped before him. "I am sorry, Ignotus, to hear that you have lost so much in such a short space of time. Know that I grieve with you. Your mother and father were dear friends, and I would not wish Antioch, Cadmus or Cearo dead, either."

"It happened so fast," Ignotus mumbled, sinking back into his chair. He barely noticed the girls as they came further into the room. "Antioch was killed because of that horrible wand…Mother committed suicide…Cearo was killed in an explosion…Cadmus committed suicide…" He glanced at the baby. "And I don't know how to care for Cerberus. I've never been around a baby in my life…"

"The wand and stone are lost, then," Godric said quietly.

"The wand is lost, yes. The stone is not." Ignotus opened his palm and the stone flashed in the firelight. "I won't use it, though. The dead are not happy returning to the land of the living. That was what Callisto's mother said. But it is all I have left of Cadmus, and so I shall keep it. One day, I want to explain to Cerberus why his father died."

"You should destroy it," Callisto said sharply. "It is useless."

Ignotus shook his head. "No. Your mother said that it was a marvel of magical creation, even if Cadmus did not accomplish his true objective. I would feel wrong destroying it. He put so much effort into it. And Cerberus will need to know the truth."

They were silent for a moment, as all eyes fell upon the sleeping baby, before Ignotus murmured, "I won't be able to return to the school this harvest, Master Godric. Even if it reopens. I have other duties now. I am all that Cerberus has."

"The school will reopen," Godric replied slowly. "Though I must confess; we have hardly been able to put aside our differences. Rowena and Helga have barely mended their friendship, and Salazar is still missing. I highly doubt that he will ever return. The three of us remaining have been seeking new teachers to help with the school in his absence. Years ago, we discussed bringing in new teachers as the school became stronger and more students were admitted. Now is the time to do it. However, I am not here to ask you to teach. Not yet, though maybe one day. I am here to ask of you something far more dangerous and costly. And I will accept your final answer, no matter what it may be."

Ignotus glanced at him. "Very well."

Godric began pacing. "Salazar and his allies will begin attacking Muggle-borns openly, and soon enough. I have few fighters with your caliber and ability. Cantrella cannot fight right now, though she dearly wishes to."

"Why not?"

Cantrella was a picture of haughtiness as she threw back her head and her chin lifted slightly. "With Salazar's disappearance, I am no longer safe at any of my family's castles, not in Briton or in Normandy. I left the House of Black, immediately after term ended, and joined Godric. The House of Black has now officially disowned me, and my cousins have vowed to kill me on sight. My father's family also disowned me, out of fear that the Blacks would retaliate if they suspected the Dreux clan of helping me. If I enter a field of pitched battle, I would be an immediate target. Much as I would like to fight, Master Godric has insisted that I remove myself from the fray, at least for a short duration."

"I cannot have her sidelined for long," Godric said. "She is one of my best fighters, and I knew when she left the House of Black, I would have to remove her from the forefront for a while. But I still dislike losing a fighter, especially one as good as Cantrella. So I propose an exchange."

Godric took a deep breath and looked Ignotus in the eye. "This place is oppressive to you, is it not? Having lost all of your family?"

"Well, it is my family home. But yes, I confess, I am rather depressed here."

"I propose to allow Cantrella the use of Peverell Fortress for a while, to keep her hidden from sight. Your father's warriors can assist her in case the House of Black happens to catch wind of her being here, but I don't think they will. They are looking for her on the field of battle, and the Peverell family tragedies have begun to spread. The House of Black will not look here for anything but mourning, and the House of Peverell does not count the House of Black as either friend or enemy. They would not attack here without specific reason."

"Such as Cantrella being discovered here, which you do not think she will be." Ignotus frowned.

"Precisely. And if you run up a flag of mourning, that will discourage potential attacks as well. In exchange, I will give you and Callisto a home near mine. It will not be as grand as Peverell Castle, but you can live there together, as I suspect the two of you would rather prefer to be married."

Ignotus flushed. "I had not even thought about –"

"No, I suspect you had not. Especially not in the light of so many deaths. But I won't have you stop living for that. Do you love her?" Godric demanded.

"Yes."

"Then that is what matters."

Callisto interrupted, blushing slightly. "We can settle that later, Uncle."

"What of Cerberus?" Ignotus asked, also still feeling rather hot beneath the collar at Godric so plainly demanding an answer about how he felt towards Callisto. "I need the elves to help with him, but if I am fighting…"

"That is up to you." Godric frowned in thought. "If you decide to fight, it might be best to leave him here, where the elves can better take care of him. When he is older, or when the war ends, you can rejoin him. Of course, if you decide to fight, you may still visit here as often as you like. And if you decide _not_ to fight, you may still move to the Hollow with Callisto, and care for Cerberus there. As for the house elves here, you will have to instruct them to obey Cantrella if you agree to let her hide here and manage Peverell Fortress."

Ignotus glanced back at the fire, mulling over his Founder's words. Should he fight? Bull was worried that Death was following the Peverell family, and that Ignotus would be next. It certainly seemed that Death was plaguing them. If he went onto the field of battle, it would be easy for Death to find him.

Callisto interrupted his thoughts. "I know what you are thinking," she said, meeting his eyes. "But I believe you are safe from Death. The cloak protects you."

"Only if I'm wearing it," he reminded her.

But she shook her head. "You completed the cloak out of Love, do you not remember? You did not wish to overpower Death, as your brothers did. Therefore, Death will not seek you out earlier than necessary."

"Such is a nice thought, but I would not put anything past Death at this point," Ignotus said quietly. Then, glancing at Cantrella, he asked, "And you? If I left Cerberus here, and turned the Fortress over to you, would you be willing to watch him alongside the elves?"

She shrugged. "I will do what is needed of me, as I cannot fight at present."

"I meant… It won't bother you, to be around the child?" He hesitated, before plowing on. "I know you loved Ross. He never told me - I didn't find out until after he died, but I wouldn't want to cause you additional pain."

Cantrella's face tightened, but she kept her voice even. "That is in the past, now. If you elect to have Cerberus remain here, and you fight in my place, I will watch him in _your_ place. An exchange, of sorts. And I will take care of this fortress. I was raised to manage a large household, as all of the women in the House of Black were."

Ignotus met Godric's eyes. "I know you need fighters," he said nervously. "But I have never fought in a real battle before."

Godric smiled at him, wearily. "You dispatched Tearlach Findlay and several of his best warriors without a scratch to yourself. And I still have much I can teach you. You also have the cloak, which would be of great service in battle."

A memory floated to the forefront of Ignotus's mind, and he said curtly, "Serpentina Slytherin once asked me if I would don the cloak in battle to attack my enemies unnoticed. I told her she was mistaken. I am not such a coward as to attack an enemy without being seen myself."

To his surprise, Cantrella replied, "Then you are a fool. Do not underestimate Salazar Slytherin or his fighters. We have lost warriors for that very reason – they believed that some acts were cowardly, and they died for trying to be noble. Do not make that mistake, Ignotus. Do not be so foolish as to walk into a battle believing you are invincible, just because you are courageous. That is one reason why Ross is dead. Wear that cloak if you must, but stay alive for your nephew and for Callisto. There are more important principles in your life than dying because you don't want to act in a deceitful manner."

"And how would I explain to Cerberus, or my own children, if I did?" Ignotus asked, frowning.

Cantrella's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You will tell them you fought an enemy for the greater good. Muggle-borns are dying, Ignotus. Salazar and his fighters kill without warning and without remorse. They have twisted beliefs, as you heard in the sick ward the day Ross died. You can tell Cerberus, and your children, that you fought to bring an end to a terrible war, so that all magical people could live in harmony, without fear of persecution."

Ignotus looked at Godric, hoping he would rebuke Cantrella, but his Founder merely looked tired and sad, and only reiterated, "Will you fight with us, then?"

Ignotus felt drained and exhausted himself. He glanced at the fire. He could stay and watch Cerberus, and play nursemaid for the next seventeen years. Or he could enter the war on the side of Godric Gryffindor's warriors, and try to help end the senseless killing of Muggle-borns. He briefly wondered what his family would say, but then he realized that it didn't matter, because they were all dead. Antioch had made it clear that he didn't want Ignotus fighting in any war, which was why he had attempted to sever the tie with Findlay. Cadmus hated Muggle-borns and would certainly disapprove if Ignotus joined Godric's side of a massive blood war. His mother had plainly stated that she didn't want him to fight, either. But his father had always been impressed by his bravery and courage, and Corvus had been a good friend to Godric. Would his father have approved of this course of action if he were still alive? Would he have willingly allowed Ignotus to fight for Godric Gryffindor?

Ignotus pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and took a deep breath. No, the truth was, none of that mattered. His family was dead, Cerberus wasn't even a month old yet, and Ross had been killed because of Salazar's underhanded tactics. Ignotus's entire world had come crumbling down during the past year. The house elves could care for Cerberus, and Cantrella could care for his family home, but Godric and Callisto needed him now. He had nothing else.

"Yes," he finally whispered. "I will fight."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned this in previous chapters, but Alba was the name for the Kingdom of Scotland during this timeframe of history. Éire is the Irish Gaelic name for Ireland. And Kymry is what the Welsh called the Kingdom of Wales before the 1500's. Mercia was the name for a portion of England before 1300.
> 
> ~BD

****

## Godric's Hollow

****

The Hollow was very different from Peverell Fortress.

Ignotus's ancestral home was located just within the borders of Alba, on a high ridge overlooking the windswept, rocky landscape surrounding it. It was a harsh region, but it had been home.

The Hollow, however, was in the south, within the kingdom of Kymry. In early summer, the landscape was dotted with wild gorse; the color reminded Ignotus of the gold in Master Godric's banner colors at Hogwarts.

The other major difference was that The Hollow was a hidden village, neatly tucked away with the help of numerous charms and wards, to prevent Salazar's forces from finding it. As such, it housed a number of fighters who had pledged themselves to help Muggle-borns.

Ignotus's father had only ever employed a few wizards who were without family or fortune; good men who needed a place to live. In exchange, they helped protect the Fortress and the Peverell family. But in The Hollow, wizards and witches lived alongside each other, and both sexes were fighters. Some of the witches were as talented as the men. No one, regardless of birth, was higher or lower than others. They were all ages and sorts; old and wizened witches who could fight fiercely, battle-hardened wizards who were not afraid to face Death, younger fighters who had left Hogwarts within the past twenty years, most of whom had been sorted into Godric or Helga's folds, though there were a handful that had studied beneath Mistress Rowena.

Furthermore, not all of Godric's fighters were centered at The Hollow. Callisto told Ignotus that there were fighters in other areas, acting as spies and informants for her uncle. Some were even abroad in the countries of Éire and Gaul, for Salazar's forces were active there, too. Just to a lesser extant.

At first, Ignotus wasn't certain if he would fit in. Then Godric introduced him to the crowds at large, robustly announcing that Ignotus was one of his best students and incredibly talented in Defense and Offense. He encouraged the others to befriend their newest recruit, and most of them smiled at him or nodded. Afterwards, while Godric spoke to several older men, a number of witches and wizards came forward to speak to Ignotus directly.

"I heard the Peverells recently suffered heavy losses," said one woman seriously. "Salazar's forces did not find you, did they?"

Ignotus had barely answered, "No", when another man said, "Won't Clan Findlay expect you to help them, instead of Godric?"

He assured the man that Findlay had been dealt with, and the man nodded solemnly before clapping him on the shoulder and saying that he was glad, for Ignotus's talents were better used for Godric.

Others, who had lost family members themselves, came to offer condolences. They had heard of Corvus's death due to Findlay's cowardice. One or two had heard of Antioch's death in the Clan Wars, but not the particulars. No one had been aware that Cadmus or Quilla had died, or that Cearo Raewald was dead, too.

Though he told others that Cadmus, Cearo, and Quilla had all died in the past week, Ignotus said nothing of Cerberus. Bull and the warriors at Peverell Fortress believed a black shadow followed the Peverell family. Ignotus didn't want to bring additional danger to his nephew. He didn't believe the House of Black would locate Cantrella with Godric's protection spells over Peverell Fortress, but he had taken necessary precautions just the same, and instructed the house elves to care for Cerberus to the best of their abilities. He also told them to keep Cerberus alive if the Fortress was attacked, no matter what. He didn't want that to happen, though. So it was best not to tell anyone too much.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Callisto led him away from the dispersing crowd to show him where they would be living from now on – together. The stone cottage she led him to was nicer than the one Cadmus and Cearo had briefly resided in. Ignotus was grateful once the door closed behind them, and the noise from the compound was muffled.

"I did not expect so many people," he admitted leaning against the door and closing his eyes.

"Many wizards and witches support Muggle-borns. But if it weren't for Uncle Godric, they would not have a banner to rally beneath. No one else dares to stand against Salazar Slytherin and the House of Black."

"I suppose not. He is too powerful. Master Godric is the only one who can hope to defeat Salazar."

He felt her arms go around his shoulders and her body pressed up against his in an embrace, but Ignotus immediately shifted and put some space between them, flushing slightly. Callisto looked at him with a bemused expression.

"We are betrothed now. Unless, of course, you do not wish to be..."

"No! I mean, yes, I wish to be! It's just..."

She frowned. "Are you afraid we shall end up like Cadmus and Cearo?"

Ignotus bit his lip and looked away. Yes, a part of him _did_ think that.

Callisto became serious. "I can cast a proper contraception charm," she said quietly. "Mistress Helga teaches all of the girls such when they first arrive at Hogwarts. And I promise not to forget to do so. The black shadow can't find you – you have this." She pulled the invisibility cloak from beneath his actual cloak.

"But I'm worried that it will. And I'm worried for Cerberus."

"You need some rest. You haven't slept well for several days. You've been watching Cerberus and grieving. I have a potion for a dreamless sleep. I think you should take it. I'll watch over you. We won't do anything between us, yet."

She led him to a small bedroom at the back of the cottage and made him lay down. She gave him a small spoonful of the potion, and Ignotus started to tell her that he was scared to sleep, but the potion kicked in and he drifted off before he had the chance.

**oOo**

When Ignotus awoke, it was to find the room in semi-darkness. He had no idea how much time had passed, but Callisto was sleeping beside him, with her arm over his waist. She was in the same clothes she had been wearing when she put him to bed.

He quietly extracted himself from her light embrace and slipped out to the front room, then out of the front door.

It was dawn, and he had slept through the afternoon and the night. Mist covered the Hollow, making the other cottages hard to see. It was chilly even for summer, and Ignotus wrapped his arms around himself as he headed around the back of the cottage. He found an outhouse there and quickly relieved himself. After performing a quick cleaning charm on his body and clothes, he went back to the front of the cottage and wondered what he should do. He supposed he should go back to Callisto, but he didn't want to wake her.

"You are awake early."

Godric's voice drifted through the mist, and Ignotus turned to face his Founder. A moment later, the older man came out of the fog to stand beside him.

"I would have thought you would have slept longer," Godric went on quietly.

Ignotus sighed. "Callisto insisted I take a Dreamless Sleep dose. I must have slept through the afternoon, evening, and night."

"I believe you needed it," Godric replied solemnly.

"I haven't slept so well in a long time."

They were silent for a few moments, before Ignotus voiced something that had been nagging in his mind.

"Callisto and I wish to be wed. But I believe I should ask your permission first."

"I shall give my consent then, if you desire it. We can perform a troth ceremony this afternoon. Gaderian and Perseus will be joining our forces this morning, and can stand with you. Both will turn nineteen years of age this autumn. The Weasley Clan has been fighting with us for a few years, though mostly behind the scenes. The Longbottom family supports Muggle-borns, but they do not have any other fighters who can join us at present. Gaderian will be the first to step forward from his family."

"I look forward to seeing them again. Months ago, when I thought I would be returning to Hogwarts for my final year, I thought I would miss the both of them. Instead, I'm missing Ross." He felt his gut twist unpleasantly.

"As do we all." Godric sighed heavily, and switched the conversation. "Come, let me show you around properly. There were too many people yesterday, and they were concerned that the House of Peverell had come under attack by Salazar, despite my efforts to put such rumors to rest. Salazar is a shadow that haunts us all, I'm afraid."

The next hour was spent meandering around the quiet, sleepy Hollow, while Godric pointed out different cottages and homes, the central square where meetings were held, outlying fields were barley and vegetables were grown, and a pasture where a few cows were grazing quietly with several Abraxan horses.

"Are there riders in your forces?" Ignotus asked curiously, watching the huge creatures paw the ground and snort in the mist as they grazed.

"Yes, four. One can also ride Thestrals, though we do not have any. Serpentina was working with the herd at Hogwarts, and I do not know if they will stay in the Forest or join forces with Salazar. Thestrals are highly intelligent, and they have a fondness for Serpentina. So I daren't approach them."

"Antioch was able to approach them, but he worked closely with Serpentina while he was at Hogwarts. I confess; I have never seen a Thestral."

"Nor will you, just yet. You did not actually witness your mother or brothers draw their last breathes, and you were not focused on Ross when he died, since you were watching the Graphorn instead. Without having seen death face to face, you cannot see a Thestral. But we will likely have pitched battle soon, and I fear you will be able to see them sooner than I would wish you to."

"Do you have any idea when or where Salazar will attack next?"

Godric turned from the pasture. "I have suspicions. Spies feed information back to me, and I believe there will be an attack on a Muggle village in Mercia before the week is out."

A sudden thought struck Ignotus, and he tensed. "Does Salazar have spies, too?"

"Oh, yes. One of my greatest worries, I'm afraid. The constant fear that Salazar has infiltrated my forces is one of great concern. I like to think I can trust everyone in the Hollow, but the truth is, I cannot possibly. It helps that Callisto is an accomplished Legilimens, for she discovers much within the minds of those around us. No one knows of her skill besides you, Cantrella, myself, and the Prewett family. I ask you not to share the information, for she is my greatest asset and my greatest weakness. She has discovered one such spy, and did so very quickly, about a year ago." Godric sighed heavily again and raked a hand through his unruly hair, before he went on, "But more so than spies is Salazar himself. He is a talented, great wizard. He could turn himself into a beetle for all I know, and scurry into camp and listen to my conversations. Or make himself invisible and infiltrate. He could bring down the defenses of this place as easily as I could bring down the defenses he has placed around his own camps. We are evenly matched, and I fear that one day, I will have to fight him directly."

"How did you ever become friends with him?" Ignotus asked, unable to see how two people who disagreed with each other so much could have possibly been friends, once.

Godric smiled sadly. "It was a long time ago, in our youth. We trained together, along with Helga and Rowena, under the Confederation of Nethrus. Of course, Nerthrus had died a few centuries before our time, but she had trained a number of talented wizard and witches, who in turn went throughout the isles to train others who wished to learn. These lessons continued to trickle down through time, and when I was about thirteen summers, I snuck out to one of the secret meetings one night. Salazar was older than I was, and he was a teacher in the Confederation. There were only a handful of witches and wizards in attendance – the meetings were in secret to avoid Muggle detection. Rowena was one of the most brilliant. She had trained in a different location, as did Helga, but we all met eventually, and we set out to train others together in the Confederation. But after a few years, Muggle attacks on the Confederation were growing more prevalent, even though Muggles can't really harm wizards and witches. Despite that, the Confederation grew smaller as more teachers gave up in disgust. Eventually, the four of us decided it was fruitless to continue teaching in secret, and archaic to continue teaching in a forest setting. So we set out to found Hogwarts."

Ignotus thought for a moment, but his next question had nothing to do with Hogwarts. In fact, it surprised even him when he said, "You must have been a good deal younger than Callisto's mother."

Godric nodded. "I was twenty years her senior. I was already a teacher in the Confederation when Seren was born. I trained her whenever I returned home to visit my family, and she also trained under our mother, learning to weave magical cloth. It was a talent that had been passed down several generations when Seren learned it, and she taught Callisto. Back then I thought it was a waste of her talents. Seren was brilliant at potions and charms, but she was only ever interested in weaving. It irritated me to no end that she would not apply herself more fully. Now, I am saddened that I no longer have her, and grateful that Callisto knows a little of the art, though most of it was self-taught. Callisto was a mere six summers when Salazar's forces killed my sister and brother-in-law. Callisto hid beneath the loom, and would have died as well, if I had not arrived when I did."

"It is a wonder she did not lose her mind."

"Indeed. Much as it is a wonder you have not lost yours. You have lost your closest friend, both of your parents, both of your brothers, and your sister-in-law." Godric watched him closely. "Do not hesitate to come speak to me if you need to, Ignotus. Or Callisto. Do you understand?"

"I do, but please do not worry for me." Ignotus gazed across the village. The mist was lifting as the sun rose, the rays burning it away. "I have no intention of committing suicide or going insane from grief. My father would not want that. Neither would Callisto."

"I am glad to hear that, though I fear battle will be just as dangerous." Godric sighed. The sun was shining through the mists in the fields, making it bright, and he nodded. "There. Perseus and Gaderian are approaching, I believe."

Through the bright fog, Ignotus saw two tall shapes coming towards them, and he smiled. Their faces swam into view as they drew closer.

"Master Godric," Gaderian's voice called out, and he raised his hand. "All is well from where we've come from."

"Excellent."

"Ignotus," Perseus said solemnly. He stopped in front of the younger man, and sighed heavily. "I am so sorry to hear of your losses. I did not expect you here. You are to be one of Godric's fighters now?"

"Yes, and I'll need both of your assistance this afternoon." Ignotus felt his face flush. "Callisto and I will be wed today, and I should like the two of you to stand in place of my brothers, as they are no longer here."

Both of his friends broke into huge smiles, and as Ignotus would soon learn, smiles were rare in Godric's Hollow.

**oOo**

The battles and skirmishes against Salazar's forces were gruesome and ugly, and years later, Ignotus would find the memories of some of the battles would surface when he least expected them to do so. His primary consolation was that Callisto would experience the same sensation; without her, he wasn't sure how he would have handled anything.

Many were the day (or night) that they were called out into these strange skirmishes, for Salazar's forces did not often fight outright. It was very often about being in the right place at the right time, and extremely difficult to guess when and where that would be. It was maddening, not knowing where the opposing forces would strike, and waiting with grim expectation for the next battle, and it took its toll on everyone who fought for Godric.

Ignotus grew accustomed to taking the cloak wherever he went, and wearing it for long periods of time at Godric's request. Unintentionally, because of the cloak, he became a resigned spy for Godric against Salazar. Though others worried incessantly for his safety, he would steal away into eavesdrop in inns and forests, wherever he thought Salazar's forces might meet, and he became so good at it that the others under Godric often wondered if Ignotus were _always_ invisible.

When he wasn't invisible, he was with Callisto. And in any pitched battle, he found his gut writhing horribly with worry over her safety – she was never afraid for herself because she had too much of Godric in her, but she had to get to the front lines to heal the horrible injuries, and the House of Black soon determined that Callisto must be stopped. In such battles, Ignotus was forced to act as her protector, casting heavy defense spells so she could retrieve the wounded even in the midst of deadly spells firing in all directions, for Salazar's forces would not allow anyone the decency or courtesy of retrieving the wounded during a ceasefire. They did not think that way; they only thought to destroy by all means possible. Godric demanded he wear his cloak in battle, for he did not want to the House of Black to see Ignotus fighting and deduce that he had taken Cantrella's place. It was essential to keep the House of Black from going to Peverell Fortress for Cantrella.

Eventually, Cantrella did return, leaving Cerberus in full care of the house elves. Her reappearance on the front lines caused a wave of fury amongst Salazar's fighters, and the intensity of the fighting escalated horribly. It was a wonder, sometimes, that any of Godric's fighters survived at all. They certainly lost fighters – Callisto's extensive knowledge of healing spells was not enough to save everyone all of the time.

Worse was trying to protect Muggles, for Salazar's forces could strike anywhere without warning, and sometimes weeks would go by before Godric's forces heard of a Muggle village that had been razed to the ground.

And in all of it, Ignotus never saw Salazar or Serpentina. It was as if they did not exist. Though Godric always went to the front lines, Salazar never did. Ignotus became bitter and angry towards both, hating them for sending others to do their dirty work.

Despite the fighting, Peverell Fortress remained standing. If the House of Black or Avery discovered Ignotus was fighting for Godric, it was shadowy information and unconfirmed, because he took such pains to hide himself with the cloak. He wondered, more than once, if he was more like Antioch and Salazar. He had taken to tactics he once said he would never use – fighting under the cover of anonymity, hidden from his enemies while striking at them. But the longer the fighting went on, the more Ignotus did not care if he was resorting to Slytherin's tactics. They did not fight fair, and it was best to fight fire with fire. He remembered exactly how many he killed, and he always thought of Antioch's words when he first mastered the Killing Curse: _I will not lie to thee; it never gets easier_.

His brother had been right. It never got easier, even if he knew it was necessary.

And then one day, one week, or one month perhaps...about two years after Ignotus had arrived at Godric's Hollow...it occurred to everyone in the Hollow that there had been no fighting for longer than usual. It crept up on them unexpectedly, and then suddenly Flann Prewett sent word from Éire that he had overheard a conversation in a tavern between two cloaked wizards.

They'd muttered that Salazar was dead.

No one believed it. Flann insisted he had not been recognized as he had disguised his flaming hair and worn a cloak when he went on reconnaissance for Godric, but Godric himself was wary of the news. Ignotus was sent out to several places in the Isles over the next few weeks, trying to discern information.

Nothing much came of lurking in the taverns and alleys of small villages, and Ignotus saw no members of the House of Black or Avery, or any of the smaller families who supported Salazar, in any of the usual places he'd normally found them in. And in the end, it was Cantrella who used Ignotus's cloak to infiltrate the House of Dreux across the channel. Unseen, she visited regularly for two weeks without her family's knowledge, until finally, she overheard one of her French aunts murmur that it was a blessed relief to live in peace again, since Salazar's death. His forces had scattered with the news of it – they no longer had anyone to fight for, and while there were still muggle killings, it wasn't to the extent it had been with Salazar commanding his supporters' movements. One of Cantrella's French cousins further remarked that, despite that, she hoped Cantrella would not return to them, for she still feared retribution for Cantrella's deflection from the House of Black.

Godric remained wary and on edge. Perhaps it was a trick. Perhaps Salazar simply circulated false information to attack the Hollow directly. No one really knew.

But gradually, Godric agreed to disperse some of his fighters. Within another year, the only ones who remained in Godric's Hollow were Callisto, Ignotus, Perseus, Gaderian, Cantrella, and some members the Prewett family. As Ignotus's twentieth birthday approached, he realized he had been fighting for two solid years and waiting for an additional year to see if Salazar was still alive and biding his time. But it seemed, finally, as though the man were really dead. The fact that the fighting had stopped so abruptly still made the hair on the back of his neck prickle with worry, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Cantrella and Gaderian announced on the summer solstice that they wished to troth, which surprised everyone. Ignotus did not expect Cantrella to fall in love again, not after Ross's death. She and Gaderian had kept the matter quiet in the midst of the fighting, which was probably best. Both knew the costs of declaring love in the midst of war; Cantrella knew it far too well, actually.

As a wedding gift, Ignotus gave them Peverell Fortress, much to Gaderian's protests and Cantrella's shock. But he had no use of it now, for a cottage in Godric's Hollow was his home with Callisto, and he much preferred it to the grand halls and elegant tapestries of his childhood castle. He had long decided he would never live at Peverell Fortress again, for he had lost all his birth family to horrible tragedy, and he did not want to be reminded of the fact on a daily basis. Callisto was his family now, and their home was not a castle, but something more real and grounded.

Cerberus was delivered to Ignotus and Callisto, along with Bobsy and Mippy, for Cantrella felt they should at least have some help around the cottage. Ignotus kindly asked the other house elves of Peverell Fortress to please obey their new masters (which they readily agreed to do), and the members of Corvus's guard agreed to serve the Longbottoms instead (and Ignotus as well, should he need their help). Thus, the matter was settled, and a new chapter of their lives began.

During the fighting, Godric had continued teaching at Hogwarts throughout the school year (as did Helga and Rowena). Now that the fighting seemed to be over, he invited Ignotus and Callisto to teach Defense classes at the school. They all agreed, and soon found their time split between the Hollow, Peverell Fortress, and Hogwarts. A successor to the House of Slytherin was selected - one of Salazar's students who had not fought in the war - and the school slowly began to heal.


	18. Chapter 18

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## Truces and Tidings; or, The Ones Who Lived

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Time, Ignotus decided, was one of those strange magical entities that Godric had mentioned to him at Hogwarts the year he made the cloak. It moved faster the older he became, though he was barely four and twenty. He was about to start his third year of teaching at the school he never quite finished. It was strange, he thought, how life changed so unexpectedly. Perhaps that was some of the mysterious magic, too.

It was a bright, warm day – one of the last of summer – and Cerberus was playing with the other children in the Hollow's meadow. He was certainly the oldest child amongst them, for none of the fighters had dared to start a family during the war. The boy looked more like Cadmus than Cearo, with muddy brown hair and eyes, and a light complexion. Ignotus wasn't sure if that bothered him or not, for there were times when Cerberus looked up at him and Ignotus was certain he was seeing Cadmus as a child instead, and he felt oddly disturbed at the sensation.

He served as the boy's unofficial father, though he would not allow Cerberus to call him by that name. Instead, he was "Uncle", a name Callisto had suggested based on what she called Godric, and that made Ignotus feel oddly like his founder, which he most certainly was not.

"It won't be long before he attends Hogwarts," Callisto murmured, gazing out at Cerberus as he ran circles around the younger children. She was sitting in a chair next to their cottage while Ignotus leaned upon the doorframe, and she was nursing their own son.

"No. I can barely believe he's already seven years old," Ignotus admitted. "It seems only yesterday I took him in, after Cadmus killed himself."

The children were playing with sticks, pretending the pieces of wood were wands or broomsticks, and they were battling invisible dragons and the like, based off of stories they heard around the Hollow. It was a game Ignotus wished they _wouldn't_ play, for he didn't want to think of any of them having to fight in a war the way he had, or the way Antioch and Cadmus had. But it would do no good to tell them to stop – they would play such games regardless, and so he tried to tell himself it was only in fun.

But quite suddenly, the children stopped playing. They looked towards the opposite side of the meadow and a few pointed at something, before all of them turned and ran back for the cluster of cottages. Ignotus stood straighter, and gazed out towards the meadow, trying to see what had caused such a disturbing change. The other children ran back to their own cottages and hid inside, though most of their parents were working in the fields or pastures. Cerberus came back to Ignotus, and ducked behind him.

"What is wrong?" Ignotus asked his nephew.

Cerberus pointed around his uncle and whispered, "A dark woman."

The air seemed to crackle with tension. Ignotus pulled his wand out and Callisto actually stood up and said, " _Bobsy_!"

The elf immediately appeared, and Callisto handed her the baby. "Take him inside, and protect him no matter what, do you understand?" she asked urgently.

The elf nodded and disappeared inside with the baby, but Cerberus remained outside, half-behind Ignotus.

As they watched, a woman in a dark cloak crested the horizon. The cloak hid a portion of her face from view, but she was holding her wand at her side. At her other side was a little girl, barely more than four or five years of age, and also in a dark cloak, clutching her mother's hand.

Ignotus could not think of anyone who matched the woman's description that would visit Godric's Hollow. The wards had only recently been removed from the place, for Godric had decided to start allowing muggles to live closer to the village. However, this meant they were always on the watch for Salazar's old supporters, though the dark forces had been silent for four years now.

As the woman came closer, it became evident that she was heading for Ignotus and Callisto. Ignotus kept his wand at his side, wondering whether he should point it at her. Silently, and without using his wand, he cast a protection spell between them as a precaution, and he noticed Callisto cast two Patronuses, which disappeared around the side of the house.

Only when the woman was ten feet away did she release the little girl's hand and lift the hood from her head.

Callisto gasped and raised her wand on instinct. Ignotus felt as though ice slid down his spine.

Serpentina Slytherin looked much as she had the last time he had seen her, years ago, at Hogwarts. Her hair was dark and her complexion like marble. The only difference was, now, there were tiny lines around her eyes that had not been there before – the only indication of age in her flawless features. The child beside her peeked from beneath her hood, and it was clear the girl belonged to Serpentina. Her skin was white, her hair ebony, and her eyes as dark as her mother's.

Serpentina spoke before any spells could be cast. "I come in peace, whether the niece of Godric Gryffindor believes me or not," she said with indifference. Her smile was cunning, which did nothing to ease Ignotus's nerves.

"What sort of peace could you possibly come in?" Callisto retorted, her very voice shaking with fury. "How did you find this place?"

"Godric Gryffindor removed the charms. It was easy once they lifted. Send another two Patronuses out to whomever you sent the first two," she commanded haughtily. "As I said, I came in peace, and my daughter with me. I do not want anyone to appear and start fighting with me today, for I do not want to murder anyone in her presence. Did you think I wouldn't notice that you sent them?"

Callisto looked mutinous. Ignotus gently touched her shoulder, but she jerked away. After a few moments, she cast two more Patronuses, which disappeared behind the first two.

"Why have you come?" Ignotus asked, trying to sound more reasonable. It seemed unbelievable that Serpentina was here at all, that she was still alive, that she had found Godric's Hollow, and that she was not there to attack them. He kept his guard up, because he did not trust her, but fighting would get them nowhere at this moment.

She turned to look at him, and there was a long, unnerving pause as her expression changed. She seemed to be appraising him, yet there was also sadness about the way she looked, as though she were remembering something. Finally, her eyes narrowed and she replied, "To find _you_. I have tidings of that foul, evil wand, and I wish for you to know, since it is all that is left of Antioch."

**oOo**

When Godric Apparated to the Hollow, it was to find the strangest scene he could imagine.

His niece and her husband, having a conversation with Serpentina Slytherin around a table set up outside their cottage – while Cerberus and a young, black-haired girl played in the grass just in front of them.

He approached cautiously, his wand out but not pointed, and Serpentina noticed him first. She tensed, but did not raise her wand. All stood from their seats when they realized he was walking towards them to join their conversation.

When he had received Callisto's second Patronus, he had no idea what he would say to Serpentina Slytherin, or she to him. She was Salazar's daughter, and he had fought against her father bitterly for a long time, regardless that Salazar had been his closest friend eons ago. He could not fathom why she was here, and why she was not trying to destroy everything before her. They should be the bitterest of enemies. He would have to replace the wards again, as soon as she left, to protect those who lived in the Hollow. He had not even considered that she might find this place after the fighting supposedly ended.

As he drew closer, it was obvious he would get no answers from Callisto – her mind was completely locked against all intrusion, more so than he had ever known it to be, excepting the times she had been near Salazar at Hogwarts. Ignotus's was easier to flit into, for he was not nearly as talented as his wife at defending his mind. But even so, it was a jumble of strange, shifting, confused thoughts, and Godric gave up. It would be easier to just ask Serpentina.

"Serpentina," he acknowledged warily, nodding politely to her. She was wearing Salazar's old locket around her neck, the green-gold glass glinting in the sunlight, the curved shape looking more snakelike than he remembered. Salazar had owned it since Godric had known him as a young man, though he had never thought to ask what Salazar kept within it. He looked back at Serpentina's marble-like face, and said quietly, "To what do we owe such a visit?"

"She came to tell me of the wand," Ignotus replied quietly. He was gazing across the meadow, with a dead look in his eyes.

Godric glanced between them. Salazar's wand? How strange. Surely if Salazar were, indeed dead, he had been buried with his wand. It was custom to bury a wizard or witch with their wand.

Serpentina inclined her head stiffly. "Antioch's wand," she said, correcting his assumption. "The one he created his final year at Hogwarts. I have heard tale of its travels." Her lip wrinkled in disgust.

"She says it has changed hands several times." Ignotus conjured another chair for Godric, and he sank back into his, his eyes drifting to Cerberus and the girl. Godric had long noticed that Ignotus's eyes held a haunted expression when watching Cerberus, but today it seemed more pronounced.

Serpentina and Callisto slowly sat back down, and Godric joined them, casting several protection spells around them silently as he did so, to prevent anyone from happening upon them and mistaking the meeting for anything else. He did not want a battle to erupt in the hollow against Serpentina, if she was here to simply relay information, and he had no doubt that Callisto had likely alerted Cantrella and Gaderian at the same time she sent a Patronus to him.

He forced himself to look at Serpentina, though everything about her reminded him unpleasantly of Salazar. "And of its travels?" he asked quietly.

"That wretched wand is the reason the fighting came to such an abrupt end," Serpentina replied with disgust. "I told Antioch that horrible piece of wood would kill him. I told him to cease his work on it, but he would not listen to me. And it did just that."

Godric sighed heavily. "Yes. Your father had hoped he would find another course of action by which to channel his energy, but he did not."

"Father never warned him, but I did," she answered bitterly. "But as he would not listen to me, he would not have listened to father, either." She paused, and then continued the story. "Findlay wanted the wand for himself. When he heard that Antioch had a superior wand, and that was the reason Athol was defeated, he became hungry with greed. He secretly ordered several of his closest companions to kill Antioch for it. But when they murdered Antioch and took the wand to Findlay, it refused to work for him, and the Findlay Clan quickly learned that the wand does not bow to just anyone. I thought that strange, but Ignotus explained it to me moments ago."

Godric glanced at Ignotus, who was still watching the two children. His eyes never left them, even as he said, "The wand would not work for me either, or for Cadmus. We tried, the night before we presented our projects to the Founders. It was the strangest sensation. Antioch handed the wand to me so he could examine my cloak, but as soon as it passed to my hand, it ceased to work. It _refused_ to obey me. I tried desperately to cast a simple lighting spell, but it was as if the wand was _angry_ with me. It _hated_ me. Cadmus had the same reaction."

Godric frowned. "How strange. Typically, wands work for other wizards or witches aside from the one they have chosen. Perhaps not as well, but they do work for others to some extent. It is rare to hear of one that will not work for others at all. And if Antioch's wand did not work for anyone else, why would it be the reason the fighting ended so suddenly? Would not the information have reached others that the wand would only work for Antioch?"

Callisto added, "During Antioch's presentation, Ollivander stated that the wand would only work for Antioch. I didn't understand what he meant at the time, either. Does it really mean that the wand will never work for anyone else?" She looked back at Serpentina, who smiled sarcastically.

"I don't believe Ollivander fully understood that wand," Serpentina replied, the same sarcastic smile still playing about her lips. "You see, the wand _will_ work for another witch or wizard, but it _must_ be passed on via bloodshed."

Callisto gasped, and Godric jolted and stared at Serpentina, horrified at the idea. " _What?_ "

Surely she was wrong. Surely a wand did not require _bloodshed_ to be passed to its next owner, to change allegiance! He had _never_ heard of such a thing.

"Antioch engrained that wand with Death, and so that is what the wand desires most. I heard tale that Findlay thought the wand invincible. However, it would not work for him when he tried it within his camp of warriors. He assumed, wrongly, that it would only work in battle. So he demanded a pitched battle against MacBain, and attempted to use the wand, believing it would work for him if he were fighting against someone. But it still refused to work, and Findlay was killed outright. The Findlay warrior who had slain Antioch grabbed the wand from Tearlach as he died, and attempted to use it, but he was unable to do so before he was also killed. The MacBain warrior who killed him took the wand from him, and he discovered that the wand _did_ work for him, where it had not worked for Findlay. It remained with the MacBain clan for a few months, before it found another master."

Godric felt his eyebrows lift. "How do you know all of this? I did not think the Clan Wars interested you."

"They don't," she agreed. "But the wand... the wand _does_ interest me. I thought it evil when Antioch was making it, though I didn't quite understand why. Still, the very fact that I disliked it and distrusted it so much was enough to make me curious as to _why_. The reason is simple enough, now that I have been following it for a few years. As I said, Antioch engrained it with Death. The wood came from a tree located within the Peverell necropolis. The core is the hair of a thestral, creatures that can only be seen after one witnesses and accepts death. The wand only wants to bring Death to others, and so it bows only to one who wins it through bloodshed via power." She paused, and then added, "I heard the story of the wand's travels throughout the Clan Wars from the House of Carrow. They are allies with the MacBain Clan, and they heard the rumors of the wand, too. They began tracking it for their own purposes, as you can well imagine."

Godric tensed, but did not reply to this comment. He suspected the House of Carrow wanted the wand to use against his forces in the war, and the House of Carrow, though quite small, was in many ways far worse than the House of Black.

Serpentina went on, "The wand remained with the MacBain Clan for several months, and they were able to obliterate the Findlay Clan. The news did not reach many people because, at that point, the Blood Wars were reaching their height. The House of Carrow decided the time was right to obtain the wand for their own reasons. Inclementio Carrow snuck into the MacBain Clan's stronghold one night, and secretly killed the warrior who had the wand. He took the wand for himself, and returned to the House of Carrow, where he discovered that the wand worked for him, too. The House of Carrow was certain, at that point, that they would become the strongest warriors in the land, and that they would win the Blood Wars. What they did not realize was that the wand does as it pleases, and to hell with the person who holds it."

She sighed and went on, in disgust, "Father's death, from old age, was part of the reason the Blood War came to an end – though not entirely. A large part of the reason the fighting ended was because of the incessant infighting between the House of Carrow and the House of Black over Antioch's wand. The House of Carrow believed they had the right to control the Blood War when father died, and insisted on making Inclementio the leader. I disapproved of such a move – Inclementio is an idiot, not worthy of leading witches and wizards into battle. Father had always detested Inclementio. Meanwhile, the House of Black felt _they_ should select a leader for the war amongst themselves, as they were father's oldest allies. By this time, they had learned of the mysterious wand, and desired to take it for themselves."

"And so," Godric asked, knowing the answer, "The House of Carrow and the House of Black squared off against each other?"

Serpentina nodded. "There was a massive fight one night at Carrow Castle. I learned of it the next day and went there to see for myself. Several members of the House of Black and the House of Carrow died horrific deaths. There was blood everywhere. The House of Black did not obtain the wand as they had hoped, and they decided it was not worth losing additional members of their family for that reason. They retreated to their strongholds to nurse sore prides, all the while debating on how to retaliate against the House of Carrow. Meanwhile, the House of Carrow thought they were victorious against the House of Black, which was a stupid presumption on their part. The House of Black got their revenge in the end – a few of their members cunningly poisoned several members of the House of Carrow during a ceasefire negotiation."

Godric groaned and rubbed his temple; none of this should surprise him, he thought, and yet it did. It never ceased to amaze him how stupid some witches and wizards could be when it came to obtaining and maintaining power.

"It's been a nasty feud," Serpentina agreed, wrinkling her lip. "And that is the real reason that the fighting against your forces stopped so suddenly. The feud between the Blacks and the Carrows was put to rest only recently, and _only_ to keep additional magical blood from spilling, though it took members of the House of Avery and the House of Nott acting as mediators to calm both sides. The House of Selwyn wanted to get involved, but I ordered them to stay the hell out of it. It's been bad enough as it is, and using Legilimancy, I discovered the only reason they were interested in negotiating between the two parties was so they could learn more of that awful wand themselves! I was so disgusted that I left them all to it and disappeared. I have nothing to do with any of father's forces anymore. I simply vanished from their midst. Much as I despise muggle borns, it is not worth staying with the Houses of Black, Carrow, Avery, Nott, or Selwyn to try and continue a war when they are only fighting amongst themselves for Antioch's wand."

Godric closed his eyes in fury. He did not want to banter muggle rights or the Blood War with Serpentina. She had only come to relay information. Still, the fact that the infighting had taken the direction it had, certainly explained why the Blood War had ended so abruptly.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, before asking, "And what of the wand now?"

"During the negotiations, The House of Carrow lost it to Emeric, of the Germanic tribes. They tried to get the wand out of Britain to prevent the House of Black from taking it, and once on the mainland, Emeric heard of it. He traced it to Acton Carrow, who was hiding in Gaul, and killed him for the wand. That was the only reason the negotiations were able to continue - the wand was lost, and there was no reason for anyone to continue fighting each other, except out of a sense of vanity and pride."

Godric tensed. He knew of Emeric – he had heard rumor of an evil man on the continent who was murdering people at will, attempting to gather followers as Salazar had. He hoped the man would remain in the Black Forest and avoid crossing the channel.

"I do not intend to follow it any further, unless it makes its way back to Britain." Serpentina's expression was mask-like. "Hopefully it will be destroyed one day, but I do not think I am powerful enough to accept such a task."

"I am afraid that I am unable to help," Godric informed her, trying to keep his voice as polite as possible. "Helga, Rowena and I decided, several years ago, to continue Hogwarts. That was our dream, and your father's – to teach students with magical heritage in a formal setting. Regardless of our disagreements, of who we thought should be taught or who should not taught, the dream was still very much as it once was."

Serpentina nodded. "I agree – it is important to keep the school in operation, for it is one way to keep peace. It will allow children to learn magic in a proper environment. Regardless of our differing views, of how I feel about muggles, the school is important. However, if I were you, I would replace the wards around this village," she added, rising from her seat. "At least for a while longer. Father's old forces are not aware they have come down, and I will not tell them so, for the sake of peace. I have my daughter to raise, and she is my priority. But others will not feel the same as I do about pointless fighting. The Houses of Black, Carrow, Avery, Nott, and Selwyn have proven only recently that they are willing to fight for no good reason. Furthermore, Cadmus's stone and Ignotus's cloak are also known to exist, and there are some who wonder if the three objects were meant to be paired together... that, if combined, a warrior would be invincible." She glanced at Ignotus, who tensed.

After a very long pause, he said softly, "We discussed it, years ago, when we created them. It was over Yule that year. But nothing ever came of it, and I have never tried to use the stone." He reached in his pocket and withdrew the small black pebble. The sunlight caught it and it gleamed. "It is amazing magic – Cadmus was brilliant, of course – but it is not worth anything to me except a reminder of the cost of such magic. I will never recall anyone from the grave if I can help it. I don't have any desire to speak to the dead. One day, I will pass it along to Cerberus, but I don't know if I will tell him what it is."

Serpentina nodded. "I am inclined to agree with you. It is brilliant magic, but not worth the price."

Godric took a deep breath and watched the girl playing with Cerberus. "Perhaps you are right, Serpentina, about the wards," he admitted. He could feel Callisto's surprise. "I will replace them for a while longer, yet. Should you need me, you can reach me via Patronus at Hogwarts."

Serpentina rose, her long, dark green robes rippling as she did so. With a sarcastic, pitying expression, she replied, "I doubt it will come to that. Be careful, all of you. Father's old forces are mollified for now, because the wand is in Europe, but peace never lasts for long."

"No." Godric felt a twist of worry worm through his gut. "It does not."

"Nyx," Serpentina called, and the little girl immediately stopped playing, and approached her mother. Cerberus came as well, going directly to Ignotus.

Serpentina reached for the girl's hand and said quietly, "We should be going."

The girl's head dropped and she mumbled something that sounded like, "...was playing... don't have any friends..."

Godric sadly gazed down at the child. She probably _didn't_ have any friends – Serpentina would be wary of letting anyone near her, or the girl. Especially if the Houses of Black, Carrow, Avery, Nott, and Selwyn were at odds with each other right now. He wondered who the child's father was, but it was impossible to guess. Serpentina was not known to select just anyone as a lover, and as far as he knew, she had only aligned herself to Antioch at Hogwarts.

"Perhaps we can return some time, and you can continue your playtime with Ignotus's nephew," Serpentina said. Her voice was even and cool. It was impossible to guess if she meant it.

"Will you allow your daughter to attend Hogwarts?" Godric asked cautiously. He would not turn the child away – he would never do that, for Salazar's sins were not Serpentina's or Nyx's.

Serpentina's smile did not reach her eyes. "No." And, inclining her head, she added, "Farewell."

Without another word, she turned and headed across the field to Apparate. Nyx looked back twice, and waved shyly at Cerberus. Then they crested the hill and disappeared down the other side, out of site.

Callisto immediately began casting charms to shield the hollow, without even asking if her uncle wished her to do so. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but the resolute expression in her eyes told him it would be fruitless to discuss anything with her just now. So he sighed and began helping her, while Ignotus continued to gaze at the meadow sadly.

**oOo**

It was late that night, long after Cerberus and the baby went to bed, that Ignotus found himself outside, staring at the stars. It was hard to believe Serpentina had sought to find him, to tell him of Antioch's wand, without intention of fighting them. The information weighed heavily upon him, and within his pocket, he twisted his fingers around the black stone that Cadmus had worked so hard upon. He did not twist the stone itself, for he had not lied to Serpentina or Godric. He had no desire to speak to anyone who was dead.

He heard the cottage door open and close, but he did not turn around. It was only Callisto, and he felt her arms slide around his.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked quietly.

"You could just read my mind and have done with it," he responded, smiling slightly at the stars. "I fear I am not talented enough to keep my thoughts hidden, like you are able to do."

"Your thoughts have been a jumbled mess all day," she responded, leaning against him. "Uncle and I eventually gave up trying to guess them, and I suspect Serpentina did, too."

They stood in silence for a long time, before Ignotus whispered, "Antioch would have never wanted his wand to create such bloodshed. Of that, I am certain."

"No," she agreed. "He would not have wanted bloodshed in the way that has happened. He only meant to avenge your father."

"I have no desire to find his wand," he assured her.

"I didn't think you did. Neither did Uncle."

"I hope it becomes lost or destroyed."

"And yet," she responded, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the stone, "You keep this." She handed it to him, and he let it rest in his open palm.

"It is a reminder," he repeated. "Of the cost of these objects. Just as I said earlier."

"Was the cloak a heavy cost?"

Ignotus shook his head. "No, not in and of itself. I was obsessed with it while I made it, but it is the only one of the three that has not brought shame or devastation upon the House of Peverell. Yes, Cadmus, Antioch and I discussed combining the three objects, once. We thought, if we could combine them, that they would be hallowed objects, that the person who had all three would be able to control Death. But no one can control Death. It was foolish to even believe we could do so." He put the stone back in his pocket and raked a hand through his unruly hair. "I don't think anyone, ever, will be able to use the three of them together. The wand is gone, and I will never tell anyone that the stone can recall a shadow of a dead person. It would be sheer fate and luck if someone who knew how to use them reunited them all at any point in the future. Hopefully, the information will be lost. Maybe those who saw Master Godric recall your mother in the Great Hall of Hogwarts will forget."

Callisto sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. "Just because it was foolish does not mean that we don't all get caught up in foolish dreams, or that we knew they were foolish at the time. Antioch and Cadmus believed they were doing something brilliant and worthwhile when they created the wand and the stone, just as you believed about the cloak. Hindsight is always much clearer. But you are right. If you tell no one about the stone's power, then perhaps it will be lost information, and no one will use it again. You cannot bank on that, however - a room full of students saw Uncle recall my mother to the land of the living that day. The information has obviously gotten around to some of Salazar's supports."

"We can't worry about it. Come. Let us go back inside." Ignotus smiled wanly at her. "I doubt anyone will appear here tonight. We replaced the wards, but I don't think Serpentina will break her word."

"I cannot trust her that much."

"I know. But she could have attacked us at any time, and she did not. Fighting makes anyone weary – even a Slytherin."

Callisto said nothing, but led the way inside, and Ignotus followed her, rubbing the stone unconsciously between his fingers, in his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> Wondering what the Kingdom of Alba is? I didn't make it up, I promise. Between ca. 800-1250, Scotland was called the Kingdom of Alba. Since the story takes place during this time frame, I'll do my best to refer to Scotland as Alba.
> 
> ~BD


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